m>-<ii 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


PROFESSOR  JOHN  ELOF  BOODIN 

MEMORIAL  PHILOSOPHY 

COLLECTION 


THE 


PRINCIPLES 


OP 


PHILOSOPHY, 


BY  WILLIAIVI  PALEY,   D.  D. 

-UBDEAX  OF  LINCOLN,  PREBENDARY  OP   ST.  PAUL'S,  AND  RECTOF 
OF  BISHOP  WEAR-MOUTH. 


BRIDGEPORT  : 

PUBLISHED  BY  M.  SHERMAN. 

1827. 


TO 
THE  EIGHT  REVEREND 

EDMUND  LAW,    D.  D. 

LORD  BISHOP  OF   CARLISLE, 


HAD  the  obligations  which  I  owe  to  your  Lordship's  kind- 
ness been  much  less,  or  much  fewer  than  they  are  ;  had  personal 
gratitude  left  any  place  in  my  mind  for  deliberation  or  for  inquiry  ; 
in  selecting  a  name  which  every  reader  might  confess  to  be  prefix- 
ed with  propriety  to  a  work,  that,  in  many  of  its  parts,  bears  no 
obscure  relation  to  the  general  principles  of  nature  and  revealed 
religion,  I  should  have  found  myself  directed  by  many  considera- 
tions to  that  of  the  Bishop  of  Carlisle.  A  long  life  spent  'in  the 
most  interesting'  of  all  human  pursuits, — the  investigation  of  moral 
and  religious  truth, — in  constant  and  unwearied  endeavours  to  ad- 
vance the  discovery,  communication,  and  success  of  both ;  a  life 
oo  occupied,  and  arrived  at  that  period  which  renders  every  life 
venerable,  commands  respect  by  a  title  which  no  virtuous  mind  will 
dispute,  wjiich  no  mind  sensible  of  the  importance  of  these  studies 
to  the  supreme  concernments  of  mankind  will  not  rejoice  to  see 
acknowledged.  Whatever  difference,  or  whatever  opposition,  some 
who  peruse  your  Lordship's  writings  may  perceive  between  your 
conclusions  and  their  own,  the  good  and  wise  of  all  persuasions  will 
revere  that  industry,  which  has  for  its  object  the  illustration  or  de- 
fence •  of  our  common  Christianity.  Your  Lordship's  researches 
have  never  lost  sight  of  one  purpose,  namely,  to  recover  the  sim- 
plicity of  the  Gosple  from  beneath  that  load  of  unauthorized  addi- 
tions, which  the  ignorance  of  some  ages,  and  the  learning  of  others, 
the  superstition  of  weak,  and  the  craft  of  designing  men,  have  (un- 
happily for  its  interest)  heaped  upon  it.  And  this  purpose,  I  am 
convinced,  was  dictated  by  the  purest  motive  ;  by  a  firm,  and,  I 
think,  a  just  opinion,  that  whatever  renders  religion  more  rational, 
renders  it  more  credible;  that  he  who,  by  a  dilligent  and  faithful 
examination  of  the  original  records,  dismisses  from  the  system  one 
article  which  contradicts  the  apprehension,  the  experience,  or  the 
reasoning  of  mankind*  does  more  towards  recommending  the  be- 
lief, and  with  the  belief  the  influence  of  Christianity,  to  the  under- 
standings and  consciences  ofserious  inquiries,  and  through  them  to 


iv  DEDICATION. 

universal  reception  and  authority,  than  can  be  effected  by  a  thou 
sand  contenders  for  creeds  and  ordinances  of  human  establishment, 

When  the  doctrine  of  Transubstantiation  had  taken  possession 
of  the  Christian  world,  it  was  not  without  the  industry  of  learned 
men  that  it  came  at  length  to  be  discovered,  that  no  such  doctrine 
was  contained  in  the  New  Testament.  But  had  those  excellent 
persons  done  nothing  more  by  their  discovery,  than  abolished  an 
innocent  superstition,  or  changed  some  directions  in  the  ceremo- 
nial of  public  worship,  they  had  merited  little  of  that  veneration, 
with  which  the  gratitude  of  Protestant  Churches  remembers  their 
services.  What  they  did  for  mankind  was  this :  they  exonerated 
Christianity  of  a  weight  which  sunk  it.  If  indolence  or  timidity 
had  checked  these  exertions,  or  suppressed  the  fruit  and  publica- 
tion of  these  inquiries,  is  it  too  much  to  affirm,  that  infidelity  would 
at  this  day  have  beeii  universal  ? 

I  do  not  mean,  my  Lord,  by  the  mention  of  this  example  to  in- 
sinuate, that  any  popular  opinion  which  your  Lordship  may  have 
encountered,  ought  to  be  compared  with  Transubstantiation,  or 
that  the  assurance  with  which  we  reject  that  extravag-ant  absurdity, 
is  attainable  in  the  controversies  in  which  your  Lordship  has  been 
engaged:  but  I  mean,  by  calling  to  mind  those  great  reformers  of 
the  public  faith,  to  observe,  or  rather  to  express  my  own  persua- 
sion, that  to  restore  the  purity,  is  most  effectually  to  promote  the 
progress  of  Christianity  and  that  the  same  virtuous  motive  which 
hath  sanctified  their  labours,  suggested  yours.  At  a  time  when 
some  men  appear  not  to  perceive  any  good,  and  others  to  suspect 
an  evil  tendency,  in  that  spirit  of  examination  and  research  which 
is  gone  forth  in  Christian  countries,  this  testimony  is  become  due, 
not  only  to  the  probity  of  your  Lordship's  views,  but  to  the  gener- 
al cause  of  intellectual  and  religious  liberty. 

That  your  Lordship's  life  may  be  prolonged  in  health  and  hon- 
our ;  that  it  may  afford  whilst  it  continues  an  instructive  proof,  how- 
serene  and  easy  old  age  can  be  made  by  the  memory  of  important 
and  well-intended  labours,  by  the  possession  of  public  and  deser- 
ved esteem,  by  the  presence  of  many  grateful  relatives  ;  above  all 
by  the  resources  of  religion,  by  an  unshaken  confidence  in  the  de- 
signs of  a  "  faithful  Creator,"  and  a  settled  trust  in  the  truth  and 
in  the  promises  of  Christianity,  is  the  fervent  prayer  of, 

My  Lord, 

Your  Lordship's  dutiful,  most  obliged,    - 
And  most  devoted  servant, 


CONTENTS. 


Preface •      9 


BOOK  X. 

PRELIMINARY  CONSIDERATIONS. 

CHAP.     1.  Definition  and  use  of  the  Science  .         •        .17 

2.  The  law  of  Honour ib. 

3.  The  law  of  the  Land 18 

4.  The  Scriptures      .        .        .        .        .        .        .19 

5.  The  Moral  Sense 21 

6.  Human  Happiness        .        .        .        .        .        .26 

7.  Virtue  .  3»" 


BOOK  XI. 

MORAL  OBLIGATION. 

CHAP.     J.  The  Question,  why  am  I  obliged  to  keep  my  word  ? 

considered .43 

2.  What  we  mean,  when  we  say  a  man  is  obliged  to 

do  a  thing-  -...': 44 

3.  The  Question,  why  am  I  obliged  to  keep  my  word  ? 

resumed      ........     45 

4.  The  will  of  God 47 

5.  The  Divine  Benevolence 48 

6.  Utility 50 

7.  The  Necessity  of  General  Rules            .         .         .52 
3.  The  Considerations  of  General  Consequence  pur- 
sued     54 

9.  Of  Right 56 

10.  The  Division  of  Rights 57 

11.  The  General  Rights  of  Mankind          .        .        .61 


?*  CONTENTS. 

BOOK  XIX. 

RELATIVE  DUTIES. 

PART  I. — OF  RELATIVE  DUTIES  WHICH  ARE  DETERMINATE. 

Page 

CHAP.     1.  Of  Property .66 

.  2.  The  Use  of  the  Institution  of  Property          .         .     67 

3.  The  History  of  Property 68 

*  4.  In  what  the  Right  of  Property  is  founded    .         .     70 

5.  Promises '  .         .         .-.       .         .         .         .74 

6.  Contracts .83 

7.  Contracts  of  Sale .    ib. 

8.  Contracts  of  Hazard 86 

9.  Contracts  of  Lending  of  Inconsumable  Property     8Y 

10.  Contracts  concerning-  the  Lending  of  Money        .     89 

11.  Contracts  of  Labour — Service       .  .         .92 

12.  Contracts  of  Labour — Commissions      .        .         .95 

13.  Contracts  of  Labour— Partnership        .         .        .97 
J4.  Contracts  of  Labour — Offices        .         .         .        .98 

15.  Lies 100 

16.  Oaths.  .        .         .        .         .        .         .        .102 

17.  Oath  in  Evidence 107 

18.  Qath  of  Allegiance        .         .         .        .         .        .108 

19.  Oath  against  Bribery  in  the  Election  of  members 

of  Parliament 110 

20.  Oath  against  Simony Ill 

21.  Oaths  to  observe  Local  Statutes    .         .         .         .112 

22.  Subscription  to  Articles  of  Religion     .         .         .114 

23.  Wills     .  .115 


BOOK  III. 

PART  II.—  OF  RELATIVE  DUTIES  WHICH  ARE  INDETERMINATE, 

AND    OF    THE    CRIMES    OPPOSITE    TO    THESE. 

1.  Charity 120 

2.  Charity — The  Treatment  of  our  Domestics  and 

Dependants ib. 

3.  Slavery 122 

4.  Charity — Professional  Assistance  .         .         .  124 

5.  Charity — Pecuniary  Bounty  .'•       .         .         .125 

6.  Resentment  .  .  132 


CONTENTS.  V II 

Page 

CHAP.     7.  Anger 132 

8.  Revenge 134 

9.  Duelling .137 

10.  Litigation 139 

11.  Gratitude 142 

12.  Slander          .         .        .        .         .  .143 


BOOK  III. 

r  ART  III. — OF  RELATIVE  DUTIES  WHICH  RESULT  FROM  THE  CON- 
STITUTION OF  THE  SEXES  AND  OF  THE  CRIMES  OPPOSED  TO 
THESE. 

CHAP.     1.  Of  the  public  Use  of  Marriage  Institutions  .        .145 

2.  Fornication   .         .         .       • .         .         .         .         .  146 

3.  Seduction 150 

4.  Adultery  ,  152 

5.  Incest .155 

6.  Polyg-agiy .          .156 

7.  Divorce .         .         .159 

8.  Marriage :        .164 

9.  Of  the  Duty  of  Parents 167 

10.  The  Rights  of  Parents 177 

11.  The  Duty  of  Children 17f! 


BOOK  XV. 

DUTIES  TO  OURSELVES.   A^iD   THE  CRIMES  OPPO- 
SITE TO  THESE. 

CHAP.     1  The  Rights  of  Self-Defence 183 

2.  Drunkenness 

3.  Suicide 


BOOK  V. 

DUTIES  TOWARDS  GOD. 

CHAP.     1.  Division  of  these  Duties        ....  .    195 

2.  Of  the    Duty  and  of  the  Efficacy  of  Prayer,  so 
far  as  the  same  appear  from  the  Light  of  Nature      19'' 


Vitl  CONTENTS. 

rage 

CHAP.     3.  Of  the  Duty  and  Efficacy  of  prayer,  as  represen- 
ted in  Scripture.  ......  200 

4.  Of  Private  Prayer,  Family  Prayer,  and  Public 

Worship 203 

5.  Of  Forms  of  Prayer  in  public  Worship        .         .  207 

6.  Of  the  Use  of  sabbatical  Institutions      .         .         .211 

7.  Of  the  Scripture  Account  of  Sabbatical  Institu- 

tions           213 

8.  By  what  Acts  and  Omissions  the  Duty  of  the 

Christian  Sabbath  is  violated  ....  222 

9.  Of  reverencing  the  Deity     .        .        .        .        .  224 


BOOK  VI. 

ELEMENTS  OF    POLITICAL  KNOWLEDGE. 

1.  Of  the  Origin  of  Civil  Government      .         .         .231 

2.  How   Subjection  to  Civil   Government  is  main- 

tained     » •         •         •  234 

3.  The  Duty  of  Submission  to  Civil  Government  ex- 

plained       .         .      ".        .         .         .         .         .  239 

4.  Of  the  Duty  of  Civil  Obedience,  as  stated  in  the 

Christian  Scriptures 248 

5.  Of  Civil  Liberty 254 

6.  Of  Different  Forms  of  Government     .        .         .  258 

7.  Of  the  British  Constitution 265 

8.  Of  the  Administration  of  Justice  . '       .         •  284 

9.  Of  Crimes  and  Punishments          ....  300 

10.  Of  Religious  Establishments,  and  of  Toleration    .  316 

11.  Of  Population  and  Provision;  and  of  Agriculture 

and  Commerce,  as  subservient  thereto      .         .  335 

12.  Of  War,  and  of  Military  Establishments      .        .  36? 


PREFACE. 


1I\  the  treatises -that  1  have  met  with  upon  the  subject  'of  mo* 
rals,  I  appear  to  myself  to  have  remarked  the  following  imper- 
fections ;-r-either  that  the  principle  was  erroneous,  or  that  it  was 
indistinctly  explained,  or  that  the  rules  deduced  from  it  were  not 
sufficiently  adapted  to  real  life  and  to  actual  situations.  The  wri- 
tings of  Grotius,  and  the  larger  work  of  Puffendorff,  are  of  too 
forensic  a  cast,  too  much  mixed  up  with  the  civil  law  and  with 
the  jurisprudence  of  Germany,  to  answer  precisely  the  design  of?, 
system  of  ethics — the  direction  of  private  consciences  in  the  gene- 
ral conduct  of  human  life.  Perhaps,  indeed,  they  are  not  to  be 
regarded  as  institutes  of  morality  calculated  to  instruct  an  indivi- 
dual in  his  duty,  so  much  as  a  species  of  law  books  and  law  au- 
thorities, suited  to  the  practice  of  those  courts  of  justice,  whose 
decisions  are  regulated  by  general  principles  of  natural  equity, 
in  conjunction  with  the  maxims  of  the  Roman  code ;  of  which 
kind,  I  understand,  there  are  many  upon  the  Continent.  To 
which  may  be  added,  concerning  both  these  authors,  that  they 
are  more  occupied  in  describing  the  rights  and  usages  of  inde- 
pendent communities,  than  is  necessary  in  a  work  which  pro- 
fesses not  to  adjust  the  correspondence  of  nations,  but  to  deline- 
ate the  offices  of  domestic  life.  The  profusion  also  of  classical 
quotations  with  which  many  of  their  pages  abound,  seems  to  me 
a  fault  from  which  it  will  not  be  easy  to  excuse  them.  If  these 
extracts  be  intended  as  decorations  of  style,  the  composition  is 
overloaded  with  ornaments  of  one  kind.  To  any  thing  more  than 
ornament  they  can  make  no  claim.  To  propose  them  as  serious 
arguments ;  gravely  to  attempt  to  establish  or  fortify  a  moral  du- 
ty by  the  testimony  of  a  Greek  or  Roman  poet,  is  to  trifle  with 
the  attention  of  the  reader,  or  rather  to  take  it  off  from  all  just 
principles  of  reasoning  in  morals. 

Of  our  own  writers  in  this  branch  of  philosophy,  I  find  none 
that  I  think  perfectly  free  from  the  three  objections  which  I  have 
stated.  There  is  likewise  a  fourth  property  observable  in  al- 
most all  of  them,  namely,  that  they  divide  too  much  the  law  of 
Nature  from  the  precepts  of  Revelation  ;  some  authors  industri- 


x  PREFACE. 

odsly  declining  the  mention  of  Scripture  authorities,  as  belong 
ing  to  a  different  province;  aud  others  reserving  them  for  » 
separate  volume;  which  appears  to  me  much  the  same  defect^ 
as  if  a  commentator  on  the  laws  of  England  should  content  him- 
self with  stating  upon  each  head  the  common  law  of  the  land, 
without  taking  any  notice  of  acts  of  parliament ;  or  should  choose 
to  give  his  readers  the  common  law  in  one  book,  and  the  statute 
law  in  another.  "When  the  obligations  of  morality  are  taught," 
says  a  pious  and  celebrated  writer,  "  let  the  sanctions  of  Chris- 
tianity never  be  forgotten  :  by  which  it  will  be  shown  that  they 
give  strength  and  lustre  to  each  other :  religion  will  appear  to  be 
the  voice  of  reason,  and  morality  the  will  of  God."* 

The  manner  also  in  which  modern  writers  have  treated  of  sub- 
jects of  morality,  is,  in  my  judgment,  liable  to  much  exception- 
It  has  become  of  late  a  fashion  to  deliver  moral  institutes  in 
strings  or  series  of  detached  propositions,  without  subjoining  a 
continued  argument  or  regular  dissertation  to  ai>y  of  them.  This 
sententious  apophthegmatizing  style,  by  crowding  propositions 
and  paragraphs  too  fast  upon  the  mind,  and  by  carrying  the  eye 
of  the  reader  from  subject  to  subject  in  too  quick  a  succession, 
gains  not  a  sufficient  hold  upon  the  attention,  to  leave  either  the 
memory  furnished,  or  the  understanding  satisfied.  However  use- 
ful a  syllabus  of  topics  or  a  series  of  propositions  may  be  in  the 
hands  of  a  lecturer,  or  as  a  guide  to  a  student,  who  is  su  pposed 
to  consult  other  books,  or  to  institute  upon  each  subject  re- 
searches of  his  own,  the  method  is  by  no  means  convenient  for 
ordinary  readers ;  because  few  readers  are  such  thinkers  as  to 
want  only  a  hint  to  set  their  thoughts  at  work  upon ;  or  such  as 
will  pause  and  tarry  at  every  proposition,  till  they  have  traced 
out  its  dependency,  proof,  relation,  and  consequences ;  before 
they  permit  themselves  to  step  on  to  another.  A  respectable  wri- 
ter of  this  classf  has  comprised  his  doctrine  of  slavery  in  the  three 
following  propositions:  — 

"  No  one  is  born  a  slave ;  because  every  one  is  born,  with  all 
his  original  rights." 

"  No  one  can  become  a  slave ;  because  no  one  from  being  a 
person  can,  in  the  language  of  the  Roman  law,  become  a  thing-; 
or  subject  of  property." 

*  Preface  to  "  The  Preceptor,"  by  Dr.  Johnson. 

tDr.  Ferguson,  author  of  «'  Institutes  of  Moral  Philosophy,"  1767, 


PREFACE.  3ft 

'-'  The  sopposcd  property  of  the  master  in  the  slave,  therefore, 
43  matter  of  usurpation,  not  of  right." 

It  may  be  possible  to  deduce  from  these  few  adages  such  a  theo- 
ry of  the  primitive  rights  of  human  nature,  as  will  evince  the 
illegality  of  slavery;  but  surely  an  author  requires  too  much 
of  his  reader,  when  he  expects  him  to  make  these  deductions  for 
himself;  or  to  supply,  perhaps  from  some  remote  chapter  of  the 
same  treatise,  the  several  proofs  and  explanations  which  are 
necessary  to  render  the  meaning  and  truth  of  these  assertions  in- 
telligible. 

There  is  a  fault,  the  opposite  of  this,  which  some  moralists  who 
have  adopted  a  different,  and  I  think  a  better  plan  of  composi- 
tion have  not  always  been  careful  to  avoid;  namely,  the  dwelling 
upon  verbal  and  elementary  distinctions  with  a  labour  and  pro- 
lixity proportioned  much  more  to  the  subtlety  of  the  question, 
than  to  its  value  and  importance  in  the  prosecution  of  the  sub- 
ject. A  writer  upon  the  law  of  nature,*  whose  explications  in 
every  part  of  philosophy,  though  always  diffuse,  are  often  very 
successful,  has  employed  three  long  sections  in  endeavouring  to 
prove  that  "  permissions  are  not  laws."  The  discussion  of  this 
controversy,  however  essential  it  might  be  to  dialectic  precision, 
was  certainly  not  necessary  to  the  progress  of  a  work  designed  to 
describe  the  duties  and  obligations  of  civil  life.  The  reader  be- 
comes impatient  when  he  is  detained  by  disquisitions  which  have 
no  other  object  than  the  settling  of  terms  and  phrases ;  and,  what 
is  worse,  they  for  whose  use  such  books  are  chiefly  intended,  will 
not  be  persuaded  to  read  them  at  all. 

I  am  led  to  propose  these  strictures  not  by  any  propensity  to 
depreciate  the  labours  of  my  predecessors,  much  less  to  invite  a 
comparison  between  the  merits  of  their  performances  and  my 
own ;  but  solely  by  the  consideration,  that  when  a  writer  offers  a 
book  to  the  public,  upon  a  subject  on  which  the  public  are  al- 
ready in  possession  of  many  others,  he  is  bound  by  a  kind  of  lite- 
rary justice  to  inform  his  readers,  distinctly  and  specifically,  what 
it  is  he  professes  to  supply,  and  what  he  expects  to  improve. 
The  imperfections  above  enumerated,  are  those  which  I  have  en- 
deavoured to  avoid  or  remedy.  Of  the  execution  the  reader  must 
»udge  :  but  this  was  the  design. 
Concerning  the  principle  of  morals  it  would  be  premature  to 

*  Dr,  Rutherforth,  author  of  "  Institutes  of  Natural  law." 


x»  PREFACE. 

speak;  but  concerning  the  manner  of  unfolding  and  explaining 
that  principle,  I  have  somewhat  which  I  wish  to  be  remarked! 
An  experience  of  nine  years  in  the  office  of  a  public  tutor  in  one 
of  the  universities,  and  in  that  department  of  education  to  which 
these  chapters  relate,  afforded  me  frequent  occasion  to  observe, 
that  in  discoursing  to  young-  minds  upon  topics  of  morality,  it 
required  much  more  pains  to  make  them  perceive  the  difficulty, 
than  to  understand  the  solution ;  that,  unless  the  subject  was  so 
drawn  up  to  a  point,  as  to  exhibit  the  full  force  of  an  objection > 
or  the  exact  place  of  a  doubt,  before  any  explanation  was  en- 
tered upon ; — in  other  words,  unless  some  curiosity  was  excited 
before  it  was  attempted  to  be  satisfied,  the  labour  of  the  teacher 
was  lost.  When  information  was  not  desired,  it  was  seldom,  I 
found,  retained.  I  have  made  this  observation  my  guide  in  the 
following  work  :  that  is  upon  each  occasion  I  have  endeavoured, 
before  I  suffered  myself  to  proceed  in  the  disquisition,  to  put  the 
reader  in  complete  possession  of  the  question ;  and  to  do  it  in 
the  way  that  I  thought  most  likely  to  stir  up  his  own  doubts  and 
solicitude  about  it. 

In  pursuing  the  principle  of  morals  through  the  detail  of  cases 
to  which  it  is  applicable,  I  have  had  in  view  to  accommodate  both 
the  choice  of  the  subjects,  and  the  manner  of  handling  them,  to 
the  situations  which  arise  in  the  life  of  an  inhabitant  of  this  coun- 
try in  these  times.  This  is  the  thing  that  I  think  to  be  princi- 
pally wanting  in  former  treatises ;  and  perhaps  the  chief  advan- 
tage which  will  be  found  in  mine.  I  have  examined  no  doubts,  I 
have  discussed  no  obscurities,  I  have  encountered  no  errors,  I 
have  adverted  to  no  controversies,  but  what  i  have  seen  actually 
to  exist.  If  some  of  the  questions  treated  of,  appear  to  a  more 
instructed  reader  minute  or  puerile,  I  desire  such  reader  to  be 
assured  that  I  have  found  them  occasions  of  difficulty  to  young 
minds ;  and  what  I  have  observed  in  young  minds,  I  should  ex- 
pect to  meet  with  in  all  who  approach  these  subjects  for  the  first 
time.  Upon  each  article  of  human  duty  I  have  combined  with 
the  conclusipns  of  reason  the  declarations  of  Scripture,  when 
they  are  to  be  had,  as  of  co-ordinate  authority,  and  as  both  ter- 
minating in  the  same  sanctions. 

In  the  manner  of  the  work  I  have  endeavoured  so  to  attemper 
the  opposite  plans  above  animadverted  upon,  as  that  the  reader 
may  not  accuse  me  of  too  much  haste  or  too  much  delay.  I  have 
bestowed  upon  each  subject  enough  of  dissertation  to  give  a  bod\ 


PREFACE.  xiii 

and  substance  to  the  chapter  in  which  it  is  treated  of,  as  well  as 
coherence  and  perspicuity ;  on  the  other  hand,  I  have  seldom,  I 
hope,  exercised  the  patience  of  the  reader  by  the  length  and  pro- 
lixity of  my  essays,  or  disappointed  that  patience  at  last  by  the 
tenuity  and  unimportance  of  the  conclusion. 

There  are  two  particulars  in  the  following  work,  for  which  it 
may  be  thought  necessary  that  I  should  offer  some  excuse.  The 
first  of  which  is,  that  I  have  scarcely  ever  referred  to  any  other 
book,  or  mentioned  the  name  of  the  author  whose  thoughts,  and 
sometimes,  possibly,  whose  very  expressions  I  have  adopted.  My 
method  of  writing  has  constantly  been  this ;  to  extract  what  I 
could  from  my  own  stores  and  my  own  reflections  in  the  first 
place ;  to  put  down  that,  and  afterwards  to  consult  upon  each  sub- 
ject such  readings  as  fell  in  my  way  ;  which  order  I  am  convin- 
ced, is  the  only  one  whereby  any  person  can  beep  his  thoughts 
from  sliding  into  other  men's  trains.  The  effect  of  such  a  plan 
npon  the  production  itself  will  be,  that,  whilst  some  parts  in  mat- 
ter or  manner  may  be  new,  others  will  be  litte  else  than  a  repe- 
tition of  the  old.  I  make  no  pretensions  to  perfect  originality :  I 
claim  to  be  something  more  than  a  mere  compiler.  Much,  na 
doubt,  is  borrowed ;  but  the  fact  is,  that  the  notes  for  this  work 
having  been  prepared  for  some  years,  and  such  things  having 
been  from  time  to  time  inserted  in  them  as  appeared  worth  pre- 
serving, and  such  insertions  made  commonly  without  the  name 
of  the  author  from  whom  they  were  taken,  I  should,  at  this  time, 
have  found  a  difficulty  in  recovering  these  names  with  sufficient 
exactness  to  be  able  to  render  to  every  man  his  own.  Nor,  to 
speak  the  truth,  did  it  appear  to  me  worth  while  to  repeat  the 
search  merely  for  this  purpose.  When  authorities  are  relied  on, 
names  must  be  produced :  when  a  discovery  has  been  made  in  sci- 
ence, it  may  be  unjust  to  borrow  the  invention  without  acknow- 
ledging the  author.  But  in  an  argumentative  treatise,  and  upon 
a  subject  which  allows  no  place  for  discovery  or  invention,  pro- 
perly so  called ;  and  in  which  all  that  can  belong  to  a  writer  is 
his  mode  of  reasoning  or  his  judgment  of  probabilities ;  I  should 
have  thought  it  superfluous,  had  it  been  easier  to  me  than  it  was, 
to  have  interrupted  my  text,  or  crowded  my  margin  with  refe- 
rences to  every  author  whose  sentiments  I  have  made  use  ok 
There  is,  however,  one  work  to  which  I  owe  so  much  that  it 
would  be  ungrateful  not  to  confess  the  obligation ;  I  mean  the 
writings  of  the  late  Abraham  Tucker,  Esq.  part  of  which  were 
2* 


xir  PREFACE. 

published  by  himself,  and  the  remainder  since  his  death,  under 
the  title  of  "  The  light  of  Nature  pursued,  by  Edward  Search. 
Esq."  I  have  found  in  this  writer  more  original  thinking  and 
observation  upon  the  several  subjects  that  he  has  taken  in  hand, 
than  in  any  other,  not  to  say,  than  in  all  others  put  together. 
Flis  talent  also  for  illustration  is  unrivalled.  But  his  thoughts 
are  diffused  through  a  long,  various,  and  irregular  work.  I  shall 
account  it  no  mean  praise,  if  I  have  been  sometimes  able  to  dis- 
pose into  method,  to  collect  into  heads  and  articles,  or  to  exhibit 
in  more  compact  and  tangible  masses,  what,  in  that  otherwise 
excellent  performance,  is  spread  over  too  much  surface. 

The  next  circumstance  for  which  some  apology  may  be  expect- 
ed, is  the  joining  of  moral  and  political  philosophy  together,  or  the 
addition  of  a  book  of  politics  to  a  system  of  ethics.  Against  this 
objection,  if  it  be  made  one,  I  might  defend  myself  by  the  ex- 
ample of  many  approved  writers,  who  have  treated  de  qfficiin 
hominis  et  civis,  or,  as  some  choose  to  express  it,  "  of  the  rights 
and  obligations  of  man,  in  his  individual  and  social  capachy," 
in  the  same  book.  I  might  allege,  also,  that  the  part  a  mem- 
ber of  the  commonwealth  shall  take  in  political  contentions,  the 
vote  he  shall  give,  the  counsels  he  shall  approve,  the  support  he 
shall  afford,  or  the  opposition  he  shall  make,  to  any  system  of  pub- 
lic measures, — is  as  much  a  question  of  personal  duty,  as  much 
concerns  the  conscience  of  the  individual  who  deliberates,  as 
the  determination  of  any  doubt  which  relates  to  the  conduct  of 
private  life  ;  that  consequently  political  philosophy  is,  properly 
speaking,  a  continuation  of  moral  philosophy ;  or  rather,  indeed^ 
a  part  of  it,  supposing  moral  philosophy  to  have  for  its  aim  the 
information  of  the  human  conscience  in  every  deliberation  that 
is  likely  to  come  before  it.  I  might  avail  myself  of  these  excuses 
if  I  wanted  them ;  but  the  vindication  upon  which  I  rely  is  the 
following.  In  stating  the  principles  of  morals,  the  reader  will 
observe  that  I  have  employed  some  industry  in  explaining  the 
theory,  and  showing  the  necessity  of  general  rules  ;  without  the 
ftill  and  constant  consideration  of  which,  I  am  persuaded  that  nc 
system  of  moral  philosophy  can  be  satisfactory  or  consistent. 
This  foundation  being  laid,  or  rather  this  habit  being  formed,  the 
discussion  of  political  subjects,  to  which,  more  than  almost  any 
other,  general  rules  are  applicable,  became  clear  and  easy. 
Whereas,  had  these  topics  been  assigned  to  a  distinct  work,  it 
would  have  been  necessary  to  have  repeated  the  same  rudiments. 


PREFACE.  Xv 

to  hare  established  over  again  the  same  principles,  as  those  which 
we  had  already  exemplified,  and  rendered  familiar  to  the  reader, 
in  the  former  parts  of  this.  In  a  word,  if  there  appear  to  any  one 
too  great  a  diversity,  or  too  wide  a  distance  between  the  subjects 
treated  of  in  the  course  of  the  present  volume,  let  him  be  re- 
minded, that  the  doctrine  of  general  rules  pervades  and  connects 
the  whole. 

It  may  not  be  improper,  however,  to  admonish  the  reader,  that, 
under  the  name  of  politics  he  is  not  to  look  for  those  occasional 
controversies  which  the  occurrences  of  the  present  day,  or  any 
temporary  situation  of  public  affairs,  may  excite ;  and  most  of 
which,  if  not  beneath  the  dignity,  it  is  beside  the  purpose  of  a  phi- 
losophical institution  to  advert  to.  He  will  perceive  that  the  seve- 
ral disquisitions  are  framed  with  a  reference  to  the  condition  oi 
this  country,  and  of  tin's  government :  but  it  seemed  to  me  to  be- 
long to  the  design  of  a  work  like  the  following  not  so  much  to  dis- 
cuss each  altercated  point  with  the  particularity  of  a  political 
pamphlet  upon  the  subject,  as  to  deliver  those  universal  princi- 
ples, and  to  exhibit  that  mode  and  train  of  reasoning  in  politics, 
by  the  due  application  of  which  every  man  might  be  enabled  to 
attain  to  just  conclusions  of  his' own.  I  am  not  ignorant  of  an 
objection  that  has  been  advanced  against  all  abstract  speculations 
concerning  the  origin,  principle,  or  limitation  of  civil  authority : 
namely,  that  such  speculations  possess  little  or  no  influence  upon 
the  conduct  either  of  the  state  or  of  the  subject ;  of  the  governors 
or  the  governed ;  nor  are  attended  with  any  useful  consequences 
to  either ;  that  in  times  of  tranquillity  they  are  not  wanted ;  in 
times  of  confusion  they  are  never  heard.  This  representation, 
however,  in  my  opinion,  is  not  just.  Times  of  tumult,  it  is  true, 
are  not  the  times  to  learn ;  but  the  choice  which  men  make  ol" 
their  side  and  party,  in  tlie  most  critical  occasions  of  the  com- 
monwealth, may  nevertheless  depend  upon  the  lessons  they  have 
received,  the  books  they  have  read,  and  the  opinions  they  have 
imbibed,  in  seasons  of  leisure  and  quietness.  Some  judicious  per- 
sons who  were  present  at  Geneva  during  the  troubles  which  late- 
ly convulsed  that  city,  thought  they  perceived,  in  the  contentions 
there  carrying  on,  the  operation  of  that  political  theory,  which 
the  writings  of  Rosseau,  and  the  unbounded  esteem  in  which 
these  writings  are  held  by  his  countrymen,  had  diffused  amongst 
the  people.  Throughout  the  political  disputes  that  have  within 
these  few  years  taken  place  in  Great  Britain,  in  her  sister  kingdom. 


svi  PREFACE. 

and  in  her  foreign  dependencies,  it  was  impossible  not  to  observe .. 
in  the  language  of  party,  in  the  resolutions  of  popular  meetings. 
in  debate,  in  conversation,  in  the  general  strain  of  those  fugitive 
and  diurnal  addresses  to  the  public  which  such  occasions  call 
forth,  the  prevalency  of  those  ideas  of  civil  authority,  which  are 
displayed  in  the  works  of  Mr.  Locke.  The  credit  of  that  great 
name,  the  courage  and  liberality  of  his  principles,  the  skill  and 
clearness  with  which  his  arguments  are  proposed,  no  less  than  the 
weight  of  the  arguments  themselves,  have  given  a  reputation  and 
currency  to  his  opinions,  of  which  I  am  persuaded,  in  any  unset- 
tled state  of  public  affairs,  the  influence  would  be  felt.  As  this  is 
not  a  place  for  examining  the  truth  or  tendency  of  these  doctrines. 
I  would  not  be  understood,  by  what  I  have  said,  to  express  any 
judgment  concerning  either.  I  mean  only  to  remark,  that  such 
doctrines  are  not  without  effect ;  and  that  it  is  of  practical  impor- 
tance to  have  the  principles  from  which  the  obligations  of  social 
union,  and  the  extent  of  civil  obedience,  are  derived,  rightly  ex- 
plained, and  well  understood.  Indeed,  as  far  as  I  have  observed, 
in  political,  beyond  all  other  subjects,  where  men  are  without 
some  fundamental  and  scientific  principles  to  resort  to,  they  arc 
liable  to  have  their  understandings  played  on  by  cant  phrases  and 
unmeaning  terms,  of  which  every  party  in  every  country  pos- 
sesses a  vocabulary.  We  appear  astonished  when  we  see  the  mul- 
titude led  away  by  sounds :  but  we  should  remember,  that  il 
sounds  work  miracles,  it  is  always  upon  ignorance.  The  influ- 
ence of  names  is  in  exact  proportion  to  the  want  of  knowledge. 
These  arc  the  observations  with  which  I  have  judged  it  expe- 
dient to  prepare  the  attention  of  my  reader.  Concerning  the 
personal  motives  which  engaged  me  in  the  following  attempt,  it 
is  not  necssary  that  I  say  much ;  the  nature  of  my  academical 
situation,  a  great  deal  of  leisure  since  my  retirement  from  it,  the 
recommendation  of  an  honoured  and  excellent  friend,  the  autho- 
rity of  the  venerable  prelate  to  whom  these  labours  are  inscribed, 
the  not  perceiving  in  what  way  I  could  employ  my  time  or  talents 
better,  and  my  disapprobation  in  literary  rr.en  of  that  fastidious 
indolence,  which  sits  still  because  it  disdains  to  do  little,  were 
the  considerations  that  directed  my  thoughts  to  this  design.  Nor 
have  I  repented  of  the  undertaking.  Whatever  be  the  fate  or  re- 
ception of  this  work,  it  owes  its  author  nothing.  In  sickness  and 
in  health  I  have  found  in  it  that  which  can  a'.one  alleviate  the  one. 
or  give  enjoyment  to  the  other, — occupation  and  engagement-. 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


BOOK  I. 

PRELIMINARY  CONSIDERATIONS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

DEFINITION  AND  USE  OF  THE  SCIENCE. 

MORAL  PHILOSOPHY,  Morality,  Ethics,  Casuistry,  Natural 
Law,  mean  all  the  same  thing ;  namely,  that  science  which  teach- 
es men  their  duty  and  the  reasons  of  it. 

The  use  of  such  a  study  depends  upon  this,  that,  without  it  the 
rules  of  life,  by  which  men  are  ordinarily  governed,  oftentimes 
mislead  them  through  a  defect  either  in  the  rule,  or  in  the  appli- 
cation. 

These  rules  are,  the  Law  of  Honour,  the  Law  of  the  Land- 
and  the  Scriptures. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE  LAW  OF  HONOUR. 

THE  Law  of  Honour  is  a  system  of  rules  constructed  by  people 
of  fashion,  and  calculated  to  facilitate  their  intercourse  with  one 
another  ;  and  for  no  other  purpose. 

Consequently,  nothing-  is  adverted  to  by  the  Law  of  Honour, 
but  what  tends  to  incommode  this  intercourse. 

Hence  this  law  only  prescribes  and  regulates  the  duties  betwixi 
equals  ;  omitting  such  as  relate  to  the  Supreme  Being*,  as  well  as 
those  which  we  owe  to  our  inferiors. 

For  which  reason,  profaneness,  neglect  of  public  worship,  or 
private  devotion,  cruelty  to  servants,  rigorous  treatment  of  ten- 
ants or  other  dependents,  want  of  charity  to  the  poor,  injuries  done 


tft  THE   LAW  OP   THE   LAND. 

to  tradesmen,  by  insolvency  or  delay  of  payment,  with  nnmberfes* 
examples  of  the  same  kind,  are  accounted  no  breaches  of  honour  ; 
because  a  man  is  not  a  less  agreeable  companion  for  these  vices, 
nor  the  worse  to  deal  with,  in  those  concerns  which  are  usually 
transacted  between  one  gentleman  and  another. 

Again,  the  law  of  Honour,  being  constituted  by  men  occupied 
in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  and  for  the  mutual  conveniency  of  such 
men,  will  be  found,  as  might  be  expected  from  the  character  and 
design  of  the  law-makers,  to  be  in  most  instances  favourable  to 
the  licentious  indulgence  of  the  natural  passions. 

Thus  it  allows  of  fornication,  adultery,  drunkenness,  prodigality, 
duelling,  and  of  revenge  in  the  extreme ;  and  lays  no  stress  upon 
the  virtues  opposite  to  these. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  LAW  OF  THE  LAND. 

THAT  part  of  mankind,  who  are  beneath  the  Law  of  Horfour. 
often  make  the  Law  of  the  Land  their  rule  of  life  ;  that  is,  they 
are  satisfied  with  themselves,  so  long  as  they  do  or  omit  nothing 
for  the  doing  or  omitting  of  which  the  law  can  punish  them. 

Whereas  every  system  of  human  laws,  considered  as  a  rule  of 
life,  labours  under  the  two  following  defects : — 

I.  Human  laws  omit  many  duties,  as  not  objects  of  compul- 
sion ;  such  as  piety  to  God,  bounty  to  the  poor,  forgiveness  of 
injuries,  education  of  children,  gratitude  to  benefactors. 

The  law  never  speaks  but  to  command,  nor  commands  but 
where  it  can  compel ;  consequently  those  duties,  which  by  their 
nature  must  be  voluntary,  are  left  out  of  the  statute-book,  as  lying 
beyond  the  reach  of  its  operation  and  authority. 

II.  Human  laws  permit,  or  which  is  the  same  thing,  suffer  to  go 
unpunished,  many  crimes,  because  they  are  incapable  of  being 
defined  by  any  previous  description. — Of  which  nature  is  luxury, 
prodigality,  partiality  in  voting  at  those  elections  where  the  qua- 
lifications of  the  candidate  ought  to  determine  the  success,  caprice 
in  the  disposition  of  men's    fortunes  at  their  death,  disrespect  to 
parents,  and  a  multitude  of  similar  examples. 

For  this  is  the  alternative :  the  law  must  either  define  before- 
hand and  with  precision  the  offences  which  it  punishes,  or  it 


THE    SCRIPTURES. 

"be  left  to  the  discretion  of  the  magistrate,  to  determine  upon  each 
particular  accusation,  whether  it  constitutes  that  offence  which 
the  law  designed  to  punish,  or  not ;  which  is,  in  effect,  leaving  te 
the  magistrate  to  punish  or  not  to  punish,  at  his  pleasure,  the  in- 
dividual who- is  brought  before  him  ;  which  is  just  so  much  tyran- 
ny. Where,  therefore,  as  in  the  instances  above-mentioned,  the 
distinction  between  right  and  wrong  is  of  too  subtle  or  of  too 
secret  a  nature  to  be  ascertained  by  any  preconcerted  language 
the  law  of  most  countries,  especially  of  free  states,  rather  than 
commit  the  liberty  of  the  subject  to  the  discretion  of  the  ma- 
gistrate, leaves  men  in  such  cases  to  themselves. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  SCRIPTURES. 

WHOEVER  expects  to  find  in  the  Scriptures  particular  direc- 
tions for  every  moral  doubt  that  arises,  looks  for  more  than  he  will 
meet  with.  And  to  what  a  magnitude  such  a  detail  of  particular 
precepts  would  have  enlarged  the  sacred  volume,  may  be  partly 
understood  from  the  following  consideration  : — The  laws  of  this 
country,  including  the  acts  of  the  legislature,  and  the  decisions  of 
our  supreme  courts  of  justice  are  not  contained  in  fewer  than  fifty 
folio  volumes  ;  and  yet  it  is  not  once  in  ten  attempts  that  you  can 
find  the  case  you  look  for,  in  any  law-book  whatever :  to  say  noth- 
ing of  those  numerous  points  of  conduct,  concerning  which  the 
law  professes  not  to  prescribe  or  determine  any  thing.  Had  then 
the  same  particularity  which  obtains  in  human  laws,  so  far  as  they 
go,  been  attempted  in  the  Scriptures,  throughout  the  whole  extent 
of  morality,  it  is  manifest  they  would  have  been  by  much  too  bulky 
to  be  either  read  or  circulated ;  or  rather,  as  St.  John  says, "  even, 
"  the  world  itself  could  not  contain  the  books  that  should  be 
•'  written.'' 

Morality  is  taught  in  Scripture  in  this  wise: — General  rules  are 
laid  down  of  piety,  justice,  benevoleace,  and  purity  ;  such  as  wor- 
shipping God  in  spirit  and  in  truth ;  doing  as  we  would  be  done 
by;  loving  our  neighbour  as  ourself;  forgiving  others,  as  we  ex- 
pect forgiveness  from  God  ;  that  mercy  is  better  than  sacrifice ; 
that  not  that  which  entereth  into  a  man,  (nor  by  parity  of  reason, 
any  ceremonial  pollutions)  but  that  which  proceedeth  from  the 


iO  THE    SCRIPTURES. 

heart,  defileth  him.  Several  of  these  rules  are  occasionally  illua 
trated,  either  in  fictitious  examples,  as  in  the  parable  of  the  good 
Samaritan ;  of  the  cruel  servant,  who  refused  to  his  fellow-ser- 
vant that  indulgence  and  compassion  which  his  master  had  shown 
to  him  ;  or  in  instances  which  actually  presented  themselves,  as  in 
Christ's  reproof  of  his  disciples  at  the  Samaratan  village ;  his 
praise  of  the  poor  widow,  who  cast  in  her  last  mite ;  his  censure 
of  the  Pharisees,  who  chose  out  the  chief  rooms, — and  of  the  tra- 
dition, whereby  they  evaded  the  command  to  sustain  their  indigent 
parents ;  or,  lastly,  in  the  resolution  of  questions,  which  those  who 
were  about  our  Saviour  proposed  to  him ;  as  his  answer  to  the 
young  man  who  asked  him,  "  What  lack  I  yet?"  and  to  the  honest 
Scribe,  who  had  found  out,  even  in  that  age  and  country,  that 
"  to  tove  God  and  his  neighbour,  was  more  than  all  whole  burnt 
"offerings  and  sacrifice.1' 

And  this  is  the  way  in  which  all  practical  sciences  are  taught, 
as  Arithmetic,  Grammar,  Navigation,  and  the  like.  -"-Rules  are 
laid  down,  and  examples  are  subjoined  :  not  that  these  examples 
are  the  cases,  much  less  all  the  cases  that  will  actually  occur,  but  by 
way  only  of  explaining  the  principle  of  the  rule,  and  as  so  many 
specimens  of  the  method  of  applying  it.  The  chief  difference  is, 
that  the  examples  in  Scripture  are  not  annexed  to  the  rules  with 
the  didactic  regularity  to  which  we  are  now-a-days  accustomed, 
but  delivered  dispersedly,  as  particular  occasions  suggested  them ; 
which  gave  them,  however,  (especially  to  those  who  heard  them, 
and  were  present  to  the  occasions  which  produced  them)  an  en- 
ergy and  persuasion,  much  beyond  what  the  same  or  any  instan- 
ces would  have  appeared  with,  in  their  places  in  a  system. 

Besides  this,  the  Scriptures  commonly  pre-suppose  in  the  persons 
they  speak  to,  a  knowledge  of  the  principles  of  natural  justice ; 
and  are  employed,  not  so  much  to  teach  new  rules  of  morality,  as 
to  enforce  the  practice  of  it  by  new  sanctions,  and  a  greater  cer- 
tainty ;  which  last  seems  to  be  the  proper  business  of  a  revelation 
from  God,  and  what  was  most  wanted.  . 

Thus  the  "  unjust  covenant-breakers,  and  extortioners,"  are 
condemned  in  Scripture,  supposing  it  known,  or  leaving  it,  where 
it  admits  of  doubt,  to  moralists  to  determine,  what  injustice,  ex- 
tortion, or  breach  of  covenant,  are. 

The  above  considerations  are  intended  to  prove,  that  the  Scrip- 
tures do  not  supersede  the  use  of  the  science  of  which  we  profess 
to  treat,  and  to  acquit  them  of  any  charge  of  imperfection  or  in- 
sufficiency on  that  account. 


THE  MORAL  SENSE.  21 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE  MORAL  SENSE. 

"  THE  father  of  Caius  Toranius  had  been  proscribed  by  the  tri- 
~  umvirate.  Caius  Toranius,  coming  over  to  the  interest  of  that 
"  party,  discovered  to  the  officers,  who  were  in  pursuit  of  his 
"  father's  life,  the  place  where  he  concealed  himself,  and  gave 
"  them  withal  a  description,  by  which  they  might  distinguish  his 
"  person  when  they  found  him.  The  old  man,  more  anxious  for 
"  the  safety  and  fortunes  of  his  son,  than  about  the  littte  that 
"  might  remain  of  his  own  life,  began  immediately  to  inquire  01 
"  the  officers  who  seized  him,  whether  his  son  was  well,  whether 
"  he  had  done  his  duty  to  the  satisfaction  of  his  generals  ?  "  That: 
"  son,"  replied  one  of  the  officers,  "  so  dear  to  thy  affections,  be- 
"  trayed  thee  to  us;  by  his  information  thou  art  apprehended,  and 
"  diest."  "  The  officer  with  this  struck  a  poniard  to  his  heart, 
"  and  the  -unhappy  man  fell,  not  so  much  affected  by  his  fate,  as 
"  by  the  means  to  which  he  owed  it."* 

Now  the  question  is,  whether,  if  the  story  were  related  to  the 
wild  boy  caught  some  years  ago  in  the  woods  of  Hanover,  or  to 
a  savage  without  experience,  and  without  instruction,  cut  off  in 
his  infancy  from  all  intercourse  with  his  species,  and,  consequent- 
ly, under  no  possible  influence  of  example,  authority,  education, 
sympathy,  or  habit ;  whether,  I  say,  such  a  one  would  feel,  upon 
the  relation,  any  degree  of  that  sentiment  of  disapprobation  of 
Toranius' 's  conduct  which  we  feel,  or  not  ? 

They  who  maintain  the  existence  of  a  moral  sense,  of  innate 
maxims,  of  a  natural  conscience,  that  the  love  of  virtue  and  ha- 
tred of  vice  are  instinctive,  or  the  perception  of  right  and  wrong 
intuitive  (all  which  are  only  different  ways  of  expressing  the 
same  thing)  affirm  that  he  would. 

They  who  deny  the  existence  of  a  moral  sense,  &c.  affirm  that 
he  would  not. 

*"  Caius  Toranius  triumvirum  partes  secatus,  proscripti  patris  sui  prsetorii  et 
ornati  viri  latebras,  jetatem,  notasque  corporis,  quibus  agnosci  posset,  centurio- 
nibus  edidit,  qui  eum  persecuti  sunt.  Senex  de  filii  magis  vita,'  et  incrementis, 
quam  de  reliquo  spiritu  suo  solicitus,  an  incolumis  esset,  et  an  imperatori- 
bus,  satisfaceret,  intewogare  eos  capit.  E  quibus  unus :  ab  illo,  inquit  quern 
tantopere  diligis,  demonstratus  nostro  ministerio,  filii  indicio  occideris :  proti- 
nusque  pectus  ejus  gladio  trajecit,  Collapsus  itaque  est  infelix,  auctore  caedis, 
•luarn  ipsacede,  miserior." 

ft'ler.  .1/ar.  Lib.  is.  cap.  11. 

V 


22  THE  MORAL  SESSE. 

And  upon  this,  issue  is  joined. 

As  the  experiment  has  never  been  made,  and  from  the  diffi- 
culty of  procuring'  a  subject,  (not  to  mention  the  impossibility  of 
proposing-  the  question  to  him,  if  we  hail  one)  is  never  likely  to 
be  made,  what  would  be  the  event  can  only  be  judged  of  from 
probable  reasons. 

They  who  contend  for  the  affirmative,  observe,  that  we  approve 
examples  of  generosity,  gratitude,  fidelity,  &c.  and  condemn  the 
contrary,  instantly,  without  deliberation,  without  having  any  in- 
terest of  our  own  concerned  in  them,  oft-times  without  being  con- 
scious of,  or  able  to  give  any  reason  for  our  approbation ;  that 
this  approbation  is  uniform  and  universal,  the  same  sorts  of  con- 
duct being  approved  or  disapproved  in  all  ages  and  countries  of 
the  world — circumstances,  say  they,  which  strongly  indicate  the 
operation  of  an  instinct  or  moral  sense. 

On  the  other  hand,  answers  have  been  given  to  most  of  these 
arguments  by  the  patrons  of  the  opposite  system  ;  and, 

First,  As  to  the  uniformity  above  alleged,  they  controvert  the 
fact.     They  remark,  from  authentic  accounts  of  historians  and 
travellers,  that  there  is  scarce  a  single  vice  which,  in  some  age 
or  country  of  the  world,  has  not  been  countenanced  by  public 
opinion  ;  that  in  one  country,  it  is  esteemed  an  office  of  piety  in 
children  to  sustain  their  aged  parents,   in  another,  to  despatch 
them  out  pf  the  way ;  that  suicide,  in  one  age  of  the  world,  has 
been  heroism,  in  another  felony ;  that  theft,  which  is  punished  by 
most  laws,  by  the  laws  of  Sparta  was  not  unfrequently  rewarded ; 
that  the  promiscuous  commerce  of  the  sexes,  although  condemned 
by  the  regulations  and  censure  of  all  civilized  nations,  is  practised 
by  the  savages  of  the  tropical  regions  without  reserve,  compunc- 
tion, or  disgrace :  that  crimes,  of  which  it  is  no  longer  permitted 
us  even  to  speak,  have  had  their  advocates  amongst  the  sages  of 
very  renowned  times ;  that,  if  an  inhabitant  of  the  polished  nations 
of  Europe  be  delighted  with  the  appearance,  wherever  he  meets 
With  it,  of  happiness,  tranquillity,  and  comfort,  a  wild  American 
is  no  less  diverted  with  the  writhings  and  contortions  of  a  victim 
at  the  stake  ;  that  even  amongst  ourselves,  and  in  the  present  im- 
proved state  of  moral  knowledge,  we  are  far  from  a  perfect  con- 
sent in  our  opinions  or  feelings  ;  that  you  shall  hear  duelling  al- 
ternately reprobated  and  applauded,  according  to  the  sex,  age, 
or  station  of  the  person  you  converse  with ;  that  the  forgiveness 
of  injuries  and  insults  is  accounted  by  one  sort  of  people  magna- 


THE   MORAL   SEXSE.  23 

ttimity,  by  another,  meanness  ;  that  in  the  above  instances,  and 
perhaps  in  most  others,  moral  approbation  follows  the  fashions  and 
institutions  of  the  country  we  live  in  ;  which  fashions  also  and  in- 
stitutions themselves  have  grown  out  of  the  exigencies,  the  cli- 
mate, situation,  or  local  circumstances  of  the  country ;  or  have 
been  set  up  by  the  authority  of  an  arbitrary  chieftain,  or  the  un- 
accountable caprice  of  the  multitude ; — all  which,  they  observe, 
looks  very  little  like  the  steady  hand  and  indelible  characters  of 
nature.  But, 

Secondly,  Because  after  these  exceptions  and  abatements,  it 
cannot  be  denied  but  that  some  sorts  of  actions  command  and  re- 
ceive the  esteem  of  mankind  more  than  others,  and  that  the  ap- 
probation of  them  is  general,  though  not  universal :  As  to  this 
they  say,  that  the  general  approbation  of  virtue,  even  in  instan- 
ces where  we  have  no  interest  of  our  own  to  induce  us  to  it,  may 
be  accounted  for  without  the  assistance  of  a  moral  sense ;  thus : — 
"  Having  experienced,  in  some  instances,  a  particular  conduct 
"to  be  beneficial  to  ourselves,  or  observed  that  it  would  be  so,  a 
;i  sentiment  of  approbation  rises  up  in  our  minds ;  which  senti- 
"  ment  afterwards  accompanies  the  idea  or  mention  of  the  same 
"  conduct,  although  the  private  advantage  which  first  excited  it 
"  be  no  more." 

And  this  continuance  of  the  passion  after  the  reason  of  it  has 
ceased,  is  nothing  else,  say  they,  than  what  happens  in  other  cases ; 
especially  in  the  love  of  money,  which  is  in  no  person  so  strong 
and  eager,  as  it  is  often  times  found  to  be  in  a  rich,  old  miser, 
without  family  to  provide  for,  or  friend  to  oblige  by  it,  and  to 
whom  consequently  it  is  no  longer  (and  he  may  be  sensible  of  it 
too)  of  any  real  use  or  value ;  yet  is  this  man  as  much  overjoyed 
with  gain,  and  mortified  by  losses,  as  he  was  the  first  day  he  open- 
ed his  shop,  and  when  his  very  subsistence  depended  upon  his 
success  in  it. 

By  these  means  the  custom  of  approving  certain  actions  com- 
menced; and  when  once  such  a  custom  hath  got  footing  in  the 
world,  it  is  no  difficult  thing  to  explain  how  it  is  transmitted  and 
continued ;  for  then  the  greatest  part  of  those  who  approve  of  vir- 
tue, approve  of  it  from  authority,  by  imitation,  and  from  a  habit 
of  approving  such  and  such  actions  inculcated  in  early  youth,  and 
receiving,  as  men  grow  up,  continual  accessions  of  strength  and 
vigour,  from  censure  and  encouragement,  from  the  books  they 
read,  the  conversations  they  hear,  the  current  application  of  epi- 


24  THE   MORAL    SENSE. 

thets,  and  turn  of  language,  and  the  various  other  causes  by  which 
it  universally  comes  to  pass,  that  a  society  of  men,  touched,  in  the 
feeblest  degree  with  the  same  passion,  soon  communicate  to  one 
another  a  great  degree  of  it.*  This  is  the  ca^e  with  most  of  us 
at  present ;  and  is  the  cause  also  that  the  process  of  association^ 
described  in  the  last  paragraph  but  one,  is  now-a-days  little  either 
perceived  or  wanted. 

Amongst  the  causes  assigned  for  the  continuance  and  diffusion 
of  the  same  moral  sentiments  amongst  mankind,  we  have  men- 
tioned imitation.  The  efficacy  of  this  principle  is  most  observa- 
ble in  children ;  indeed,  if  there  be  any  thing  in  them  which  de- 
serves the  name  of  instinct,  it  is  their  propensity  to  imitation. 
.Now,  there  is  nothing  which  children  imitate  or  apply  more  read- 
ily than  expressions  of  affection  and  aversion,  of.  approbation,  ha- 
tred, resentment,  and  the  like ;  and  when  these  passions  and  ex- 
pressions are  once  connected,  which  they  soon  will  be  by  the  same 
a  ia'K'<n-  which  unite  words  with  their  ideas,  the  passions  will 
follow  the  expression,  and  attach  upon  the  obiect  to  which  the 
child  has  been  accustomed  to  apply  the  epithet.  In  a  word,  when 
almost  every  thing  else  is  learned  by  imitation,  can  we  wonder 
to  find  the  same  cause  concerned  in  the  generatioa  of  bur  moral 
sentiments  ? 

Another  considerable  objection  to  the  system  of  moral  instincts 
is  this,  that  there  are  no  maxims  in  the  science  which  can  well  be 
deemed  innate,  as  none  perhaps  can  be  assigned,  Which  are  abso- 
lutely and.  universally  true  ;  in  other  words,  which  do  not  bend  to 
circumstances.  Veracity,  which  seems,  if  any  be,  a  natural  du- 
ty, is  excused  in  many  cases  towards  an  enemy,  a  thief,  or  a  mad 
man.  The  obligation  of  promises,  which  is  a  first  principle  in 
morality,  depends  upon  the  circumstances  under  which  they  are 
made  :  they  may  have  been  unlawful,  or  become  so  since,  or  in- 
consistent with  former  promises,  or  erroneous,  or  extorted ;  under 
nil  which  cases,  instances  may  be  suggested,  where  the  obliga- 

"  From  instances  of  popular  tumult,  seditions,  factions,  panics,  and  of  all 
passions  which  are  shared  with  a  multitude,  we  may  learn  the  influence  of  so- 
ciety in  exciting  and  supporting  any  emotion  ;  while  the  most  ungovernable  dis- 
orders are  raised,  we  find,  by  that  means,  from  the  slightest  and  most  frivolous 
occasions.  He  must  be  more  or  less  than  man  who  kindles  not  in  the  common 
blaze.  What  wonder,  then,  that  moral  sentiments  are  found  of  such  influence 
in  life,  though  springing  from  principles  which  may  appear,  at  first  sight,  some- 
what small  and  delicate  !>' — /fume's  Inquiry  concerning  tht  Principles  ofMoralt* 
Sect.  ix.  p.  396.  if* 


THE   MORAL   SENSE.  .25 

tion  to  perform  the  promise  would  be  dubious  or  discharged,  and 
so  of  most  other  general  rules,  when  they  come  to  be  actually 
applied. 

An  argument  has  been  also  proposed  on  the  same  side  of  the 
question,  of  this  kind.  Together  with  the  instinct,  there  must 
have  been  implanted,  it  is  said,  a  clear  and  precise  idea  of  the  ob' 
ject  upon  which  it  was  to  attach.  The  instinct  and  the  idea  of  the 
object  are  inseparable  even  in  imagination,  and  as  necessarily  ac- 
company each  other  as  any  correlative  ideas  whatever ;  that  is, 
in  plainer  terms,  if  we  be  prompted  by  nature  to  the  approbation 
of  particular  actions,  we  must  have  received  also  from  nature  a 
distinct  conception  of  the  action  we  are  thus  prompted  to  ap- 
prove ;  which  we  certainly  have  not  received. 

But  as  this  argument  bears  alike  against  all  instincts,  in  brutes, 
as  well  as  men,  it  will  hardly,  I  suppose,  produce  conviction, 
though  it  may  be  difficult  to  find  an  answer  to  it. 

Upoii  the  whole,  it  seems  to  me,  either  that  there  exists  no  such 
instincts  as  compose  what  is  called  moral  sense,  or  that  they  are 
not  now  to  be  distinguished  from  prejudices  and  habits;  on  which 
account  they  cannot  be  depended  upon  in  moral  reasoning :.  I 
mean,  that  it  is  not  a  safe  way  of  arguing,  to  assume  certain  prin- 
ciples as  so  many  dictates,  impulses,  and  instincts  of  nature,  and 
then  to  draw  conclusions  from  these  principles,  as  to  the  rectitude 
or  wrongness  of  actions,  independent  of  the  tendency  of  such  ac- 
tions, or  any  other  consideration  whatever. 

Aristotle  lays  down,  as  a  fundamental  and  self-evident  maxim, 
that  nature  intended  barbarians  to  be  slaves,  and  proceeds  to  de- 
duce from  this  maxim  a  train  of  conclusions,  calculated  to  justify 
the  policy  which  then  prevailed.  And  I  question  whether  the 
same  maxim  be  not  still  self-evident  to  the  company  of  merchants 
trading  to  the  coast  of  Africa. 

Nothing  is  so  soon  made  as  a  maxim  ;  and  it  appears  from  the 
example  of  Aristotle,  that  authority  and  convenience,  education, 
prejudice,  and  general  practice,  have  no  small  share  in  making 
of  them,  and  that  the  laws  of  custom  are  very  apt  to  be  mistaken 
for  the  order  of  nature. 

For  which  reason,  I  suspect,  that  a  system  of  morality,  built 
upon  instincts,  will  only  find  out  reasons  and  excuses  for  opinions 
and  practices  already  estaWishec'.-^he  will  seldom  correct  either 

But  further,  suppose  we  admit  the  existence  of  these  instincts, 
what  is  their  authority  ?  No  man,  you  say,  can  act  in  deliberate 
3*  • 


>6  .  HUMAIT   HAPPINESS, 

opposition  to  them  without  a  secret  remorse  of  conscience.  BuS 
this  remorse  may  be  borne  with  :  and  if  the  sinner  choose  to  bear 
with  it,  for  the  sake  of  the  pleasure  or  the  profit  which  he  expects 
from  his  wickedness ;  or  finds  the  pleasure  of  the  sin  to  exceed 
the  remorse  of  conscience,  of  which  he  alone  is  the  judge,  and 
concerning  which,  when  he  feels  them  both  together,  he  can 
hardly  be  mistaken,  the  moral  instinct  man,  so  far  as  I  can  under- 
stand, has  nothing  more  to  offer. 

For  if  he  allege  that  these  instincts  are  so  many  indications  of 
ihe  will  of  Godj  and  consequently  presages  of  what  we  are  to 
look  for  hereafter,  tin's,  I  answer,  is  to  retort  a  rule  and  a  motive 
ulterior  to  the  instincts  themselves,  and  at  which  rule  and  motive 
we  shall  by-and-by  arrive  by  a  surer  road ;  — I  say  surer,  so  long 
as  there  remains  a  controversy,  whether  there  be  any  instinctive 
maxims  at  all,  or  any  difficulty  in  ascertaining  what  maxims  are 
instinctive. 

This  celebrated  question,  therefore,  becomes  in  our  sj'stem  a 
question  of  pure  curiosity ;  and  as  such,  we  dimiss  it  to  the  de- 
termination of  those  who  are  more  inquisitive  than  we  are  con- 
cerned to  be,  about  the  natural  history  and  constitution  of  the 
human  species. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HUMAN  HAPPINESS. 

THE  word  happy  is  a  relative  term ;  that  is,  when  we  call  u 
man  happy,  we  mean  that  he  is  happier  than  some  others,  with 
whom  we  compare  him,  than  the  generality  of  others;  or,  than 
he  himself  was  in  some  other  situation  : — Thus  speaking  of  one 
who  has  just  compassed  the  object  of  a  long  "pursuit,  "Now," 
we  say,  "he  is  happy;"  and  in  a  like  comparative  sense,  com- 
pared, that  is,  with  the  general  lot  of  mankind,  we  call  a  man 
happy  who  possesses  health  and  competency. 

In  strictness,  any  condition  may  be  denominated  happy,  in 
which  the  amount  or  aggregate  of  pleasure  exceeds  that  of  pain ; 
and  the  degree  of  happiness  depends  upon  the  quantity  of  this 
excess. 

And  the  greatest  quantity  of  it  ordinarily  attainable  in  humaa 


HUMAN    HAPPINESS. 

lUe,  is  what  we  mean  by  happiness,  when  we  inquire  or  pro- 
nounce what  human  happiness  consists  in.* 

In  which  inquiry  I  will  omit  much  usual  declamation  on  the 
dignity  and  capacity  of  our  nature ;  the  superiority  of  the  soul 
to  the  body,  of  the  rational  to  the  animal  part  of  our  constitution  ; 
upon  the  worthiness,  refinement,  and  delicacy  of  some  satisfac- 
tions, or  the  meanness,  grossness,  and  sensuality  of  others ;  be- 
cause I  hold  that  pleasures  differ  m  nothing-  but  in  continuance 
and  intensity :  from  a  just  computation  of  which,  confirmed  by 
what  we  observe  of  the  apparent  cheerfulness,  tranquillity,  and 
contentment  of  men  of  different  tastes,  tempers,  stations,  and 
pursuits,  every  question  concerning1  human  happiness  must  re- 
ceive its  decision. 

It  will  be  our  business  to  show,  if  we  can, 

I.  What  human  happiness  does  not  consist  in. 

II.  What  it  does  consist  in. 

FIRST,  then,  Happiness  does  not  consist  in  the  pleasures  of 
sense,  in  whatever  profusion  or  variety  they  be  enjoyed.  By  the 
pleasures  of  sense,  I  mean,  as  well  the  animal  gratifications  of 
eating,  drinking,  and  that  by  which  the  species  is  continued,  as 
the  more  refined  pleasures  of  music,  painting-,  architecture,  gar- 
dening, splendid  shows,  theatric  exhibitions ;  and  the  pleasuresr 

*  If  any  positive  signification,  distinct  from  what  we  mean  by  pleasure,  can 
be  affixed  to  the  term  "  happiness,"  I  should  take  it  to  denote  a  certain  state  et' 
the  nervous  system  in  that  part  of  the  human  frame  in  which  we  feel  joy  and 
grief,  passions  and  affections.  Whether  this  part  be  the  heart,  whicli  the  turn 
of  most  language,  would  lead  us  to  believe,  or  the  diaphragm,  as  Buffon,  or  tin: 
upper  orifice  of  the  stomach,  as  Van  Helmont  thought  -T  or  rather  be  a  kind  of 
fine  net  work,  lining  the  whole  region  of  the  pnecordia,_as  others  have  imagin- 
ed, it  is  possible,  not  only  that  each_painful  sensation  may  violently  shake  and 
disturb  the  fibres  at  the  time,  but  that  a  series  of  such  may  at  length  so  derange 
the  very  texture  of  the  system,  as  to  produce  a  perpetual  irritation,  which  will 
show  itself  by  fretfulness,  impatience,  and  restlessness.  It  is  possible,  also-,  on 
the  other  hand,  that »  succession  of  pleasurable  sensations  may  have  such  an 
effect  upon  this  subtile  organization,  as  to  cause  th£  fibres  to  relax,  and  return 
into  their  place  and  order,  and  thereby  to  recover,  or,  if  not  lost,  to  preserve 
'that  harmonious  confirmation  which  gives  to  the  mind  its  sens6  of  complacency 
and  satisfaction.  This  state  may  be  denominated  happiness,  and  is  so  far  distin- 
guishable from  pleasure,  that  it  does  not  refer  to  any  particular  object  of  enjoy- 
ment, or  consist,  like  pleasure,  in  the  gratification  of  one  or  more  of  the  senses, 
but  is  rather  the  secondary  effect  which  such  objects  and  gratifications' produce 
upon  the  nervous  system,  or  the  state  in  which  they  leave  it.  These  conjectures- 
belong  not,  however,  to  our  province.  The  comparative  sense,  in  which  we 
have  explained  the  term  happiness,  is  more  popular,  and  is  sufficient  for  the 
purpose  of  the  present  chapter. 


£8  HUMAN  HAPPINESS. 

lastly,  of  active  sports,  as  of  hunting,  shooting,  fishing1,  &c.   For. 

1st,  These  pleasures  continue  but  a  little  while  at  a  time.  This 
is  true  of  them  all,  especially  of  the  grosser  sort.  Laying  aside 
the  preparation,  and  the  expectation,  and  computing  strictly  the 
actual  sensation,  we  shall  be  surprised  to  find  how  inconsiderable 
a  portion  of  our  time  they  occupy,  how  few  hours  in  the  four- 
and-twenty  they  are  able  to  fill  up. 

2dly,  vThese  pleasures,  by  repetition,  lose  their  relish.  It  is  a 
propei'ty  of  the  machine,  for  which  we  know  no  remedy,  that  the 
organs  by  which  we  perceive  pleasure,  are  blunted  and  benumbed 
by  being  frequently  exercised,  in  the  same  way.  There  is  hardly 
any  one  who  has  not  found  the  difference  between  a  gratification, 
when  new,  and  when  familiar,  or  any  pleasure  which  does  not 
become  indifferent  as  it  grows  habitual. 

3dty,  The  eagerness  for  high  and  intense  delights  takes  away 
the  relish  from  all  others;  and  as  such  delights  fall  rarely  in  our 
way,  the  greater  part  of  our  time  becomes,  from  this  cause,  empty 
and  uneasy. 

There  is  hardly  any  delusion  by  which  men  are  greater  sufferers 
in  their  happiness,  than  by  their  expecting  too  much  fr.om  what  is 
called  pleasure;  that  is,  from  those  intense  delights  which  vulgarly 
engross  the  name  of  pleasure.  The  very  expectation  -spoils  them. 
When  they  do  come,  we  .are  often  eagaged  in  taking  pains  to 
persuade  ourselves  how  much  we  are  pleased,  rather  than  enjoy- 
ing any  pleasure  which  springs  naturally  out  of  the  object.  And 
whenever  we  depend  upon  being  vastly  delighted,  we  always  go 
home  secretly  grieved  at  missing  our  aim.  Likewise,  as  has  been 
observed  just  now,  when  this  humour  of  being  prodigiously  de- 
lighted has  once  taken  hold  of  the  imagination,  it  hinders  us  from 
providing  for,  or  acquiescing-  in,  those  gently  soothing  engage- 
merits,  the  due  variety  and  succession  of  which,  are  the  only  things 
that  supply  a  continued  stream  of  happiness. 

What  I  have  been  able  to  observe  of  that  part  of  mankind,  whose 
professed  pursuit  is  pleasure,  and  who  are  withheld  in  the  pursuit 
by  no  restraint*  of  fortune,  or  scruples  of  conscience,  corresponds 
sufficiently  with  this  account.  T  have  commonly  remarked  in 
such  men,  a  restless  and  inextinguishable  passion  for  variety;  a 
great  part  of  their  time  to  be  vacant,  and  so  much  of  it  irksome  : 
and  that,  with  whatever  eagerness  and  expectation  they  set  out, 
they  become,  by  degrees,  fastidious  in  their  choice  of  pleasure, 
languid  in  the  enjoyment,  yet  miserable  under  the  want  of  it. 


OT7MAN   HAPPINESS.  29 

The  truth  seems  io  be,  that  there  is  a  limit  at  which  these  plea- 
sures soon  arrive,  and  from  which  they  ever  afterwards  decline. 
They  are  by  necessity  of  short  duration,  as  the  organs  cannot 
hold  on  their  emotions  beyond  a  certain  length  of  time ;  and  if  you 
endeavour  to  compensate  for  this  imperfection  in  their  nature,  by 
the  frequency  with  which  you  repeat  them,  you  lose  more  than  you 
gain,  by  the  fatigue  of  the  faculties,  and  the  diminution  of  sen- 
sibility. 

We  have  said  nothing  in  this  account,  of  the  loss  of  oppor- 
tunities, or  the  decay  of  faculties,  which,  whenever  they  happen 
leave  the  voluptuary  destitute  and  desperate ;  teased  by  desires 
that  can  never  be  gratified,  and  the  memory  of  pleasures  which 
must  return  no  more. 

It  will  also  be  allowed  by  those  who  have  experienced  it,  and 
perhaps  by  those  alone,  that  pleasure  which  is  purchased  by  the 
encumbrance  of  our  fortune,  is  purchased  too  dear ;  the  pleasure 
never  compensating  for  the  perpetual  irritation  of  embarrassed 
circumstances. 

These  pleasures,  after  all,  have  their  value;  and  as  the  young 
are  always  too  eager  in  their  pursuit  of  them,  the  old  are  some- 
times too  remiss ;  that  is,  too  studious  of  their  ease,  to  be  at  the 
pains  for  them  which  they  really  deserve. 

SECONDLY,  Neither  does  happiness  consist  in  an  exemption 
from  pain,  labour,  care,  buisness,  suspense,  molestation,  and 
"  those  evils  which  are  without ;"  such  a  state  being  usually  atten- 
ded, not  with  ease,  but  with  depression  of  spirits,  a  tastelessness 
in  all  our  ideas,  imaginary  anxieties,  and  the  whole  train  of  hypo- 
chondriacal  affections. 

For  which  reason,  it  seldom  answers  the  expectations  of  those 
who  retire  from  thei?  shops  and  counting-houses  to  enjoy  the  re- 
mainder of  their  days  in  leisure  and  tranquillity ;  much  less,  oi 
such  as,  in  a  fit  of  chagrin,  shut  themselves  up  in  cloisters  and 
hermitages,  or  quit  the  world  and  their  stations  in  it,  for  solitude- 
and  repose. 

Where  there  exists  a  known  external  cause  of  uneasiness,  the 
cause  may  be  removed,  and  the  uneasiness  will  cease.  But  those 
imaginary  distresses  which  men  feel  for  want  of  real  ones,  (and 
which  are  equally  tormenting,  and  so  far  equally  real)  a^they  de- 
pend upon  no  single  or  assignable  subject  of  uneasiness,  admit 
oftentimes  of  no  application  or  relief. 
.  Hence  a  moderate  pain,  upon  which  the  attention  may  fasten 


30  HUMAN  HAPPINESS. 

and  spend  itself,  is  to  many  a  refreshment ;  as  a  fit  of  the  gout 
will  sometimes  cure  the  spleen.  And  the  same  of  any  moderate 
agitation  of  the  mind,  as  a  literary  controversy,  a  law-suit,  a  con- 
tested election,  and,  above  all.  gaming;  the  passion  for  which,  in 
men  of  fortune  and  liberal  minds,  is  only  to  be  accounted  for  on 
this  principle. 

THIRDLY,  neither  does  happiness  consist  in  greatness,  rank,  or 
elevated  station.  , 

Were  it  true,  that  all  superiority  afforded  pleasure,  it  would 
follow,  that  by  how  much  we  were  the  greater,  that  is,  the  more 
persons  we  were  superior  to,  in  the  same  proportion,  so  far  as  de- 
pended upon  this  cause,  we  should  be  the  happier ;  but  so  it  is, 
that  no  superiority  yields  any  satisfaction,  save  that  which  we 
possess  or  obtain  over  those  with  whom  we  immediately  compare 
ourselves.  The  shepherd  perceives  no  pleasure  in  his  superiority 
over  his  dog;  the  farmer,  in  his  superiority  over  the  shepherd; 
the  lord,  in  his  superiority  ov.er  the  farmer ;  nor  the  king,  lastly, 
in  his  superiority  over  the  lord.  Superiority,  where  there  is  no 
competition,  is  seldom  contemplated  ;  what  most  men,  indeed,  are 
quite  unconscious  of. 

But  if  the  same  shepherd  can  run,  fight,  or  wrestle,  better  than 
the  peasants  of  his  village ;  if  the  farmer  can  show  better  cattle, 
if  he  keep  a  better  horse,  or  be  supposed  to  have  a  longer  purse 
than  any  farmer  in  the  hundred  ;  if  the  lord  have  more  interest  in 
an  election,  greater  favour  at  court,  a  better  house,  or  larger  es- 
tate, than  any  nobleman  in  the  county ;  if  the  king  possess  a  more 
extensive  territory,  a  more  powerful  fleet  or  army,  a  more  splen- 
did establishment,  more  loyal  subjects,  or  more  weight  and  autho- 
rity in  adjusting  the  affairs  of  nations,  than  any  prince  in  Europe  : 
in  all  these  cases  the  parties  feel  an  actual  •  satisfaction  in  their 
superiority. 

Now,  the  conclusion  that  follows  from  hence  is  this,  that  the 
pleasures  of  ambition,  which  are  supposed  to  be  peculiar  to  high 
stations  are,  in  reality,  common  lo  all  conditions.  The  farrier 
who  shoes  a  horse  better,  and  who  is  in  greater  request  for  his 
skill  than  any  man  within  ten  miles  of  Kim,  possesses,  for  all  that 
I  can  see,-the  delight  of  distinction  and  of  excelling,  as  truly  and 
substantially  as  the  statesman,  the  soldier,  and  the  scholar,  who 
have  filled  Europe  with  the  reputation  of  their  wisdom,  their  va- 
Jour,  or  their  knowledge. 

£fo  superiority  appears  to  be  of  any  account,  but  superiority 


HUMAN   HAPPINESS.  31 

over  a  rival.  This,  it  is  manifest,  may  exist  wherever  rivalships 
do ;  and  rivalships  fall  out  amo*ngst  men  of  all  ranks  and  degrees. 
The  object  of  emulation,  the  dignity  or  magnitude  of  this  object, 
makes  no  difference ;  as  it  is  not  what  either  possesses  that  con- 
stitutes the  pleasure,  but  what  one  possesses  more  than  the  other. 
Philosophy  smiles  at  the  contempt  with  which  the  rich  and  great 
speak  of  the  petty  strifes  and  competitions  of  the  poor ;  not  re- 
flecting, jthat  these  strifes  and  competitions  are  just  as  reasonable 
as  their  own,  and  the  pleasure  which  success  affords,  the  same. 

Our  position  is,  that  happiness  does  not  consist  in  greatness. 
And  this  position  we  make  out  by  showing-,  that  even  what  are  sup- 
posed to  be  the  peculiar  advantages  of  greatness,  the  pleasures  of 
ambition  and  superiority,  are  in  reality  common  to  all  conditions. 
But  whether  the  pursuits  of  ambition  be  ever  wise,  whether 
they  contribute  more  to  the  happiness  or  misery  of  the  pursuers, 
is  a  different  question,  and  a  question  concerning  which  we  may 
be  allowed  to  entertain  great  doubt.  The  pleasure  of  success  is 
exquisite ;  so  also  is  the  anxiety  of  the  pursuit,  and  the  pain  of 
disappointment ;  and  what  is  the  worst  part,  "of  the  account,  the 
pleasure  is  short-lived.  We  soon  cease  to  look  back  upon  those 
whom  we  have  left  behind ;  new  contests  are  engaged  in ;  new 
prospects  unfold  themselves  ;  a  succession  of  struggles  is  kept  up, 
whilst  there  is  a  rival  left  within  the  compass  of  our  views  and 
profession ;  and  when  there  is  none,  the  pleasure,  with  the  pur- 
suit is  at  an  end. 

II.  We  have  seen  what  happiness  does  not  consist  in.  We  are 
next  to  consider  in  what  it  does  consist. 

In  the  conduct  of  life,  the  great  matter  is,  to  know  beforehand 
what  will  please  us,  and  what  pleasure  will  hold  out.  So  far  as 
we  know  this,  our  choice  will  be  justified  b'y  the  event.  And  this 
knowledge  is  more  scarce  and  difficult  than  at  first  sight  it  may 
seem  to  be ;  for  sometimes  pleasures  which  are  wonderfully  al- 
luring and  flattering  in  the  prospect,  turn  out  in  the  possession 
extremely  insipid,  or  do  not  hold  out  as  we  expected;  at  other 
times,  pleasures  start  up  which  never  entered  into  our  calcula- 
tion, and  which  we  might  have  missed  of  by  not  foreseeing  ;  from 
whence  we  have  reason  to  believe,  that  we  actually  do  miss  of 
many  pleasures  from  the  same  cause.  I  say,  to  know  "  before- 
hand;" for,  after  the  experiment  is  tried,  it  is  commonly  imprac- 
ticable to  retreat  OF  change ;  beside  that  shifting  and  changing  is 
apt  to  generate  a  habit  of  restlessness,  which  is  destructive  of  the 
happiness  of  every  condition. 


32  HUMAN  HAPPINESS. 

By  reason  of  the  original  diversity  of  taste,  capacity,  and  con- 
stitution, observable  in  the  human  species,  and  the  still  greater 
variety  which  habit  and  fashion  have  introduced  in  these  particu- 
lars, it  is  impossible  to  propose  any  plan  of  happiness  which  wil! 
succeed  to  all,  or  any  method  of  life  which  is  universally  eligible 
or  practicable. 

All  that  can  be  said  is,  that  there  remains  a  presumption  in  fa- 
vour of  those  conditions  of  life,  in  which  men  generally  appear 
most  cheerful  and  contented.  For  though  the  apparent  happiness 
of  mankind  be  not  always  a  true  measure  of  their  real  happiness, 
it  is  the  best  measure  we  have. 

Taking  this  for  my  guide,  I  am  inclined  to  believe-  that  happi- 
ness consists, 

I.  In  the  exercise  of  the  social  affections. 

Those  persons  commonly  possess  good  spirits,  who  have  about 
them  many  objects  of  affection  and  endearment,  as  wife,  children, 
kindred,  friends.  And  to  the  want  of  these  may  be  imputed  the 
peevishness  of  monks,  and  of  such  as  lead  a  monastic  life. 

Of  the  same  nature  with  the  indulgence  of  our  domestic  affec- 
tions, and  equally  refreshing  to  the  spirits,  is  the  pleasure  which 
results  from  acts  of  bounty  and  beneficence,  exercised  either  in 
giving  money,  or  in  imparting  to  those  who  want  it  the  assistance 
of  our  skill  and  profession. 

Another  main  article  of  happiness  is, 

II.  The  exercise  of  our  faculties,  either  of  body  or  mind,  in 
the  pursuit  of  some  engaging  end. 

It  seems  to  be  true,  that  no  plenitude  of  present  gratifications 
can  make  the  possessor  happy  for  a  continuance,  unless  he  have 
something  in  reserve — something  to  hope  for,  and  look  forward  to. 

This  I  conclude  to  be  the  case,  from  comparing  the  alacrity  and 
spirits  of  men  who  are  engaged  in  any  pursuit  which  interests 
them,  with  the  dejection  and  ennui  of  almost  all,  who  are  either 
born  to  so  much  that  they  want  nothing  more,  or  who  have  used 
up  their  satisfactions  too  soon,  and  drained  the  sources  of  them. 

It  is  this  intolerable  vacuity  of  mind  which  carries  the  rich  and 
<rreat  to  the  horse-course  and  the  gaming-table ;  and  often  en- 
gages them  in  contests  and  pursuits,  of  which  .the  success  bears  no 
proportion  to  the  solicitude  and  expense  with  which  it  is  sought. 
An  election  for  a  disputed  borough  shall  cost  the  parlies  twenty 
or  thirty  thousand  pounds  each — to  say  nothing  of  the  anxiety, 
humiliation,  and  fatigue  of  the  canvass;  when  a  seat  in  the 


HUMAN  HAPPINESS.  33 

House  of  'Commons,  of  exactly  the  same  value,  may  be  had  for  a 
tenth  part  of  the  money,  and  with  no  trouble.  I  do  not  mention 
this  to  blame  the  rich  and  great,  (perhaps  they  cannot  do  better) 
but  in  confirmation  of  what  I  have  advanced. 

Hope,  which  thus  appears  to  be  of  so  much  importance  to  our 
happiness,  is  of  two  kinds ; — where  there  is  something  to  be 
done  towards  attaining  the  object  of  our  hope,  and  where  there 
is  nothing  to  be  done.  The  first  alone  is  of  any  value ;  the  lat- 
ter being  apt  to  corrupt  into  impatience,  having  no  power  but  to 
sit  still  and  wait,  which  soon  grows  tiresome. 

The  doctrine  delivered  under  this  head  may  be  readily  admit- 
ted ;  but  how  to  provide  ourselves  with  a  succession  of  pleasura- 
ble engagements,  is  the  difficulty.  This  requires  two  things ; 
judgment  in  -the  choice  of  ends  adapted  to  our  opportunities,  and 
a  command  of  imagination,  so  as  to  be  able,  when  the  judgment 
has  made  choice  of  an  end,  to  transfer  a  pleasure  to  the  means ; 
after  which,  the  end  may  be  forgotten  as  soon  as  we  will. 

Hence  those  pleasures  are  most  valuable,  not  which  are  most 
exquisite  in  the  fruition,  but  most  productive  of  engagement  and 
activity  in  the  pursuit. 

A  man  who  is  in  earnest  in  his  endeavours  after  the  happiness 
of  a  future  state,  has,  in  this  respect,  an  advantage  over  all  the 
world ;  for  he  has  constantly  before  his  eyes  an  object  of  su- 
preme importance,  productive  of  perpetual  engagement  and  ac- 
tivity, and  of  which  the  pursuit  (which  can  be  said  of  no  pursuit 
besides)  lasts  him  to  his  life's  end. .  Yet  even  he  must  have  ma- 
ny "ends,  besides  the  far  end  ;  but  then  they  will  conduct  to  that, 
be  subordinate,  and  in  some  way  or  other  capable  of  being  refer- 
red to  that,  and  derive  their  satisfaction,  or  an  addition  of  happi- 
ness, from  that. 

Engagement  is  every  thing:  the  more  significant,  however,  our 
engagements  are,  the  better :  such  as  the  planning  of  laws,  insti- 
tutions, manufactures,  charities,  improvements,  public  works ;  and 
the  endeavouring,  by  our  interest,  address,  solicitations,  and  ac- 
tivity, to  carry  them  into  effect :  or  upon  a  smaller  scale,  the  pro- 
curing of  a  maintenance  and  fortune  for  our  families  by  a  course 
of  industry  and  application  to  our  callings,  which  forms  and  gives 
motion  to  the  common  occupations  of  life ;  training  up  a  child ; 
prosecuting  a  scheme  for  his  future  establishment;  making  our- 
selves masters  of  a  language  or  a  science ;  improving  or  managing 
an  estate;  labouring  after  a  piece  of  preferment;  and  lastly,  any 
engagement  which  is  innocent,  is  better  than  none ;  as  the  wri- 
4 


•34  HUMAN   HAPPINESS. 

ting  of  a  book,  the  building  of  a  house,  the  laying  out  of  a  garden, 
the  digging  of  a  fish-pond,— even  the  raising  of  a  cucumber  or  « 
tulip. 

Whilst  the  mind  is  taken  up  with  the  objects  or  business  before 
it,  we  are  commonly  happy,  whatever  the  object  or  business  be : 
when  the  mind  is  absent,  and  the  thoughts  are  wandering  to  some- 
thing else  than  what  is  passing  in  the  place  in  which  we  are,  we 
are  often  miserable. 

III.  Happiness  depends  upon  the  prudent  constitution  of  the 
habits. 

The  art  in  which  the  secret  of  human  happiness  in  a  great  mea- 
sure consists  is,  to  set  the  habits  in  such  a  manner,  that  every 
change  may  be  a  change  for  the  better.  The  habits  thmselve  are 
much  the  same ;  for  whatever  is  made  habitual  becomes  smooth, 
and  easy,  and  indifferent.  The  return  to  an  old  habit  is  likewise 
easy,  whatever  the  habit  be.  Therefore  the  advantage  is  with 
those  habits  which  allow  of  an  indulgence  in  the  deviation  from 
them.  The  luxurious  receive  no  greater  pleasure  from  their 
dainties,  than  the  peasant  does  from  his  bread  and  cheese:  but  the 
peasant,  whenever  he  goes  abroad,  finds  a  feast;  whereas  the 
epicure  must  be  well  entertained,  to  escape  disgust.  Those  who 
spend  every  day  at  cards,  and  those  who  go  every  day  to  plough 
pass  their  time  much  alike;  intent  upon  what  they  are  about, 
wanting  nothing,  regretting  nothing,  they  are  both  in  a  state  of 
ease  ;  but  then,  whatever  suspends  the  occupation  of  the  card 
player,  distresses  him  ;  whereas  to  the  labourer,  every  interruption 
is  a  refreshment:  and  this  appears  in  the  different  effects  that 
Sunday  produces  upon  the  two,  which  proves  a  day  of  recreation 
to  the  one,  but  a  lamentable  burthen  to  the  other.  The  man  who 
has  learned  to  live  alone,  feels  his  spirits  enlivened  whenever  he 
enters  into  company,  and  takes  his  leave  without  regret ;  another, 
who  has  long  been  accustomed  to  a  crowd,  or  continual  succession 
of  company,  experiences  in  company  no  elevation  of  spirits,  nor 
any  greater  satisfaction  than  what  the  man  of  a  retired  life  finds 
in  his  chimney-corner.  So  far  their  conditions  are  equal :  but  let 
a  change  of  place,  fortune,  or  situation,  separate  the  companion 
from  his  circle,  his  visitors,  his  club,  common  room,  or  coffee- 
house, and  the  difference  arid  advantage  in  the  choice  and  con- 
stitution of  the  two  habits  will  show  itself.  Solitude  comes  to  the 
one  clothed  with  melancholy;  to  the  other,  it  brings  liberty  and 
quiet.  You  will  see  the  one  fretful  and  restless,  at  a  loss  how  to 
dispose  of  his  time,  till  the  hour  comes  round  when  he  may  forget 


HUMAN   HAPPINESS.  35 

himself  ia  bed ;  the  other,  easy  and  satisfied,  taking  up  his  book 
or  his  pipe,  as  soon  as  he  finds  himself  alone,  ready  to  admit  any 
little  amusement  that  casts  up,  or  to  turn  his  hands  and  attention 
to  the  first  business  that  presents  itself;  or  content,  without  either, 
to  sit  still,  and  let  his  train  of  thought  glide  indolently  through  his 
brain,  without  much  use  perhaps,  or  pleasure,  but  without  hanker- 
*ng  after  any  thing  better,  and  without  irritation.  A  reader,  who 
has  inured  himself  to  books  of  science  and  argumentation,  if  a 
novel,  a  well  written  pamphlet,  an  article  of  news,  a  narrative  of 
a  curious  voyage,  or  the  journal  of  a  traveller,  fall  in  his  way,  sits 
down  to  the  repast  with  relish,  enjoys  his  entertainment  while  it 
lasts,  and  can  return,  when  it  is  over,  to  his  graver  reading,  with- 
out distaste.  Another,  with  whom  nothing  will  go  down  but  works 
of  humour  and  pleasantry,  or  whose  curiosity  must  be  interested 
by  perpetual  novelty,  will  consume  a  bookseller's  window  in  half 
a  forenoon ;  during  which  time  he  is  rather  in  search  of  diversion 
than  diverted;  and  as  books  to  his  taste  are  few,  and  short,  and 
rapidly  read  over,  the  stock  is  soon  exhausted,  when  he  is  left 
without  resource  from  this  principal  supply  of  innocent  amuse- 
ment. 

So  far  as  circumstances  of  fortune  conduce  to  happiness,  it  is  not 
the  income  which  any  man  possesses,  but  the  increase  of  income, 
that  affords  the  pleasure*.  Two  persons,  of  whom  one  begins  with 
a  hundred,  and  advances  his  income  to  a  thousand  pounds  a-year, 
and  the  other  sets  off  with  a  thousand,  and  dwindles  down  to  a 
hundred,  may,  in  the  course  of  their  time  have  the  receipt  and 
spending  of  the  same  sum  of  money ;  yet  their  satisfaction,  so  far 
as  fortune  is  concerned  in  it,  will  be  very  different ;  the  series  and 
sum  total  of  their  incomes  being  the  same,  it  makes  a  wide  dif- 
ference at  which  end  they  begin. 

IV.  Happiness  consists  in  health. 

By  health  I  understand,  as  well  freedom  from  bodily  distempers, 
as  that  tranquillity,  firmness,  and  alacrity  of  mind,  which  we  call 
good  spirits ;  and  which  may  properly  enough  be  included  in  our 
notion  of  health,  as  depending  commonly  upon  the  same  causes 
and  yielding  to  the  same  management,  as  our  bodily  constitution. 

Health,  in  this  sense,  is  the  one  thing  needful :  Therefore  no 
pains,  expense,  or  self-denial,  or  restraint  which  we  submit  to  for 
the  sake  of  it,  is  too  much.  Whether  it  require  us  to  relinquish 
lucrative  situations,  to  abstain  from  favourite  indulgence,  to  con- 
trol intemperate  passions,  or  undergo  tedious  regimens  :  whatever 


36  VIRTUE. 

difficulties  it  lays  us  under,  a  man  who  pursues  bis  happiness  ra- 
tionally and  resolutely,  will  be  content  to  submit  to. 

When  we  are  in  perfect  health  and  spirits,  we  feel  in  ourselves 
a  happiness  independent  of  any  particular  outward  gratification 
whatever,  and  of  which  we  can  give  no  account.  This  is  an  en- 
joyment which  the  Deity  has  annexed  to  life ;  and  probably  con- 
stitutes, in  a  great  measure,  the  happiness  of  infants  and  brutes, 
especially  of  the  lower  and  sedentary  orders  of  animals,  "as  of  oys- 
ters, periwinkles,  and  the  like :  for  which  I  have  sometimes  been 
at  a  loss  to  find  out  amusement. 

The  above  acount  of  human  happiness  will  justify  the  two  fol- 
lowing conclusions,  which,  although  found  in  most  books  of  mo- 
rality, have  seldom  been  supported  by  any  sufficient  reasons : — 

FIRST,  That  happiness  is  pretty  equally  distributed  amongst 
the  different  orders  of  civil  society. 

SECONDLY,  That  vice  has  no  advantage  over  virtue,  even  with 
respect  to  this  world's  happiness. 


CHAPTER  VIZ. 

VIRTUE. 

• 

VIRTUE  is  "  the  doing  good  to  mankind,  in  obedience  to  the' 
"will  of  God,  and  for  the  sake  of  everlasting  happiness." 

According  to  which  definition,  the  "good  of  mankind"  is  the 
subject;  the  "will  of  God"  the  rule;  and  "everlasting  happi- 
ness" the  motive  of  human  virtue. 

Virtue  has  been  divided  by  some  into  benevolence,  prudence, 
fortitude,  and  temperance.  Benevolence  proposes  good  ends ; 
prudence  suggests  the  best  means  of  attaining  them  ;  fortitude  ena- 
bles us  to  encounter  the  difficulties,  dangers,  and  discouragements, 
which  stand  in  our  way  in  the  pursuit  of  these  ends ;  temperance 
repels  and  overcomes  the  passions  that  obstruct  it.  Benevolence, 
for  instance,  prompts  us  to  undertake  the  cause  of  an  oppressed 
orphan  ;  prudence  suggests  the  best  means  of  going  about  it;  for- 
titude enables  us  to  confront  the  danger,  and  bear  up  against  the 
loss,  disgrace,  or  repulse,  that  may  attend  our  undertaking ;  and 
temperance  keeps  under  the  love  of  money,  of  ease,  or  amuse- 
ment, which  might  divert  us  from  it. 

Virtue  is  distinguished  by  others  into  two  branches  only, —  pru- 
dence and  benevolence :  prudence,  attentive  to  our  own  interest ; 


VIRTUE. 

benevolence,  to  that  of  our  fellow-creatures:  both  directed  to  the 
same  end,  the  increase  of  happiness  in  nature ;  and  taking  equal 
concern  in  the  future  as  in  the  present. 

The  four  CARDINAL  virtues  are,— prudence,  fortitude,  tempe- 
ranse,  and  justice. 

But  the  division  of  Virtue,  to  which  we  are  now-a-days  most 
accustomed,  is  into  duties, — 

Towards  God ;  as  piety,  reverence,  resignation,  gratitude  &c. 

Towards  other  men;  (or  relative  duties;)  as  justice,  charity, 

fidelity,  loyalty,  &c- 

Towards  ourselves;  as  chastity,,  sobriety,  temperance,  preser- 
vation of  life,  care  of  health,  &c. 

There  are  more  of  these  distinctions,  which  it  is  not  worth  while 
to  set  down. 

I  shall  proceed  to  state  a  few  observations,  which  relate  to  the 
general  regulations  of  human  conduct,  unconnected  indeed  with 
each  other,  but  very  worthy  of  attention ;  and  which  fall  as  prop- 
erly under  the  title  of  this  chapter  as  of  any  other. 

I.  Mankind  act  more  from  habit  than  reflection.. 

It  is  few  only  and  great  occasions  that  men  deliberate  at  all . 
on  fewer  still,  that  they  institute  any  thing  like  a  regular  inquiry 
into  the  moral  rectitude  or  depravity  of  what  they  are  about  to  do ; 
or  wait  for  the  result  of  it.  We  are  for  the  most  part  determined 
at  once  ;  and  by  an  impulse  which  is  the  effect  and  energy  of  pre- 
established  habits.  And  this  constitution  seems  well  adapted  to 
the  exigences  of  human  life,  and  to  the  imbecility  of  our  moral 
principle.  In  the  current  occasions  and  rapid  opportunities  of 
life,  there  is  oftentimes  little  leisure  for  reflection ;  and  were 
there  more,  a  man,  who  has  to  reason  about  his  duty,  when  the 
temptation  to  transgress  it  is  upon  him,  is  almost  sure-  to  reason 
himself  into  an  error. 

If  we  are  in  so  great  a  degree  passive  under  our  habits,  where, 
it  is  asked,  is  the  exercise  of  virtue,  the  guilt  of  vice,  or  any  use 
of  moral  and  religious  knowledge  ?  1  answer,  in  the  forming  and 
contracting  of  these  habits. 

And  from  hence  results  a  rule  of  life  of  considerable  importance, 
viz.  that  many  things  are  to  be  done  and  abstained  from,  solely 
for  the  sake  of  habit.  We  will  explain  ourselves  by  an  example 
or  two : — A  beggar,  with  the  appearance  of  extreme  distress,  asks 
our  charity.  If  we  come  to  argue  the  matter,  whether  the  dis- 
tress be  real,  .whether  it  be  not  brought  upon  himself,  whether  it 
be  of  public  advantage  to  admit  such  applications,  whether  it  be 
4* 


30  VIRTUE. 

not  to  encourage  idleness  and  vagrancy,  whether  it  may  not  invite 
impostors  to  our  doors,  whether  the  money  can  be  well  spared,  or 
might  not  be  better  applied :  when  these  considerations  are  put  to- 
gether, it  may  appear  very  doubtful,  whether  we  ought  or  ought  mr 
to  give  any  thing.  But  when  we  reflect,  that  the  misery  before  our 
eyes  excites  our  pitjr,  whether  we  will  or  not ;  that  it  is  of  the  ut- 
most consequence  to  us  to  cultivate  this  tenderness  of  mind ;  that 
it  is  a  quality,  cherished  by  indulgence,  and  soon  stifled  by  oppo- 
sition ;  when  this,  I  say,  is  considered,  a  wise  man  will  do  that  for 
his  own  sake,  which  he  would  have  hesitated  to  do  for  the  peti- 
tioner's ;  he  will  give  way  to  his  compassion,  rather  than  offer  vi- 
olence to  a  habit  of  so  much  general  use. 

A  man  of  confirmed  good  habits  will  act  in  the  same  mannei 
without  any  consideration  at  all. 

This  may  serve  for  one  instance ;  another  is  the  following : —  A 
man  has  been  brought  up  from  his  infancy  with  a  dread  of  lying. 

An  occasion  presents  itself,  where,  at  the  expense  of  a  little 
veracity,  he  may  divert  his  company,  set  off  his  own  wit  with  ad- 
vantage, attract  the  notice  and  engage  the  partiality  of  all  about 
him.  This  is  not  a  small  temptation.  And  when  he  looks  at  the 
other  side  of  the  question,  he  sees  no  mischief  that  can  ensue 
from  this  liberty,  no  slander  of  any  man's  reputation,  no  preju- 
dice likely  to  arise  to  any  man's  interest.  Were  there  nothing  fur- 
ther to  be  considered,  it  would  be  difficult  to  show  why  a  man  un- 
der such  circumstances  might  not  indulge  his  humour.  But  when 
he  reflects,  that  his  scruples  about  lying  have  hitherto  preserved 
him  free  from  this  vice ;  that  occasions  like  the  present  will  return, 
where  the  inducement  may  be  equally  strong,  but  the  indulgence 
much  less  innocent ;  that  his  scruples  will  wear  away  by  a  few 
transgressions,  and  leave  him  subject  to  one  of  the  meanest  and 
most  pernicious  of  all  bad  habits, — a  habit  of  lying  whenever  it  will 
serve  his  turn.  When  all  this,  I  say,  is  considered,  a  wise  man 
will  forego  the  present,  or  a  much  greater  pleasure  rather  than 
lay  the  foundation  of  a  character  so  vicious  and  contemptible. 

From  what  has  been  said,  may  be  explained  also  the  nature  of 
habitual  virtue.  By  the  definition  of  Virtue,  at  the  beginning  of 
this  chapter,  it  appears,  that  the  good  of  mankind  is  the  subject, 
the  will  of  God  the  rule,  and  everlasting  happiness  the  motive  and 
end  of  all  virtue.  Yet,  a  man  shall  perform  many  an  act  of  virtue 
without  having  either  the  good  of  mankind,  the  will  of  God.  or 
everlasting  hapoiness  in  his  thoughts ;  just  as  a  man  may  be  a  very 
good  servant,  without  being  conscious,  at  every  turn,  of  a  regard 


VIRTUE.  39 

to  his  master's  will,  or  of  an  express  attention  to  his  interest ;  and 
your  best  old  servants  are  of  this  sort :  but  then  he  must  have  serv- 
ed for  a  length  of  time  under  the  actual  direction  of  these  motives, 
to  bring  it  to  this ;  in  which  service  his  merit  and  virtue  consists. 

There  are  habits,  not  only  of  drinking,  sw'earing,  and  lying, 
and  of  some  other  things,  which  are  commonly  acknowledged  to 
be  habits,  and  called  so ;  but  of  every  modification  of  action, 
speech,  and  thought.  Man  is  a  bundle  of  habits. 

There  are  habits  of  industry,  attention,  vigilance,  advertency  ; 
of  a  prompt  obedience  to  the  judgment,  occurring  or  of  yielding 
to  the  first  impulse  of  passion  ;  of  extending  our  views  to  the  fu- 
ture, or  of  resting  upon  the  present ;  of  apprehending,  method- 
izing, reasoning ;  of  indolence  and  dilatoriness ;  of  vanity,  self- 
conceit,  melancholy,  partiality  ;  of  fretfulness,  suspicion,  captious- 
ness,  censoriousness ;  of  pride,  ambition,  covetousness ;  of  over- 
reaching, intriguing,  projecting ;  in  a  word,  there  is  not  a  quality 
or  function,  either  of  body  or  mind,  which  does  not  feel  the  influ- 
ence of  this  great  law  of  animated  nature. 

II.  The  Christian  religion  has  not  ascertained  the  precise  quan- 
tity of  virtue  necessary  to  salvation. 

This  has  been  made  an  objection  to  Christianity ;  but  wihout 
reason.  For,  as  all  revelation,  however  imparted  originally,  must 
be  transmitted  by  Ihe  ordinary  vehicle  of  language,  it  behoves 
those  who  make  the  objection,  to  show,  that  any  form  of  words 
could  be  devised,  which  might  express  this  quantity ;  or  that  it  is 
possible  to  constitute  a  standard  of  moral  attainments,  accommo- 
dated to  the  almost  infinite  diversity  which  subsists  in  the  capa- 
cities and  opportunities  of  different  men. 

It  seems  most  agreeable  to  our  conceptions  of  justice,  and  is 
consonant  enough  to  the  language  of  Scripture,*  to  suppose,  that 
there  are  prepared  for  us  rewards  and  punishments,  of  all  possi- 
ble degrees,  from  the  most  exalted  happiness  down  to  extreme 

*  "  He  which  soweth  sparingly,  shall  reap  also  sparingly  ;  and  lie  which  sow 
"  etlj  bountifully,  shall  reap  also  bountifully."  2  Cor.  ix.  G. — "  And  that  servant 
"  which  knew  his  lord's  will.,  and  prepared  not  himself,  neither  did  according  to 
•'  his  will,  shall  be  beaten  with  many  stripes:  but  he  that  knew  not,  shall  be 
•'  beaten  with  few  stripes."  Luke  xii.  47,  48. — "  Whosoever  shall  give  you  a 
"  cup  of  water  to  drink  in  my  name,  because  ye  belong  to  Christ ;  verily  I  say 
•l  unto  you,  he  shall  not  lose  his  reward  ;"  to  wit,  intimating  that  there  is  in  re- 
serve a  proportionable  reward  for  even  the  smallest  act  of  virtue.  Mark,  ix, 
41. — See  also  the  parable  of  the  pounds,  Luke,  xix.  36,  etc. ;  where  he  whose 
pound  had  gained  ten  pounds,  was  placed  over  ten  cities  \  and  he  whose  pound 
had  gained  five  pounds,  was  placed  over  five  cities, 


40  VIRTUE* 

misery;  so  that  "our  labour  is  never  in  vain;"  whatever  advance- 
ment we  make  in  virtue,  we  procure  a-  proportionable  accession 
of  future  happiness;  as,  on  the  other  hand,  every  accumulation 
of  vice  is  the  "treasuring  up  of  so  much  wrath  against  the  day 
"  of  wrath."  It  has  been  said,  that  it  can  never  be  a  just  econ- 
omy of  Providence,  to  admit  one  part  of  mankind  into  heaven, 
and  condemn  the  other  to  hell ;  since  there  must  be  very  little  to 
choose,  between  the  worst  man  who  is  received  into  heaven,  and 
the  best  who  is  excluded.  And  how  know  we  it  might  be  an- 
swered, but  that  there  may  be  as  little  to  choose  in  their  condi- 
tions ? 

Without  entering  into  a  detail  of  Scripture  morality,  which 
would  anticipate  our  subject,  the  following  general  positions  may 
be  advanced,  I  think,  with  safety. 

1.  That  a  state  of  happiness  is  not  to  be  expected  by  those  who 
are  conscious  of  no  moral  or  religious  rule.     I  mean  those  who 
cannot  with  truth  say,  that  they  have  been  prompted  to  one  action 
or  withheld  from  one  gratification,  by  any  regard  to  virtue  or 
religion,  either  immediate  or  habitual. 

There  needs  no  other  proof  of  this,  than  the  consideration, 
that  a  brute  would  be  as  proper  an  object  of  reward  as  such  a 
man,  and  that,  if  the  case  were  so,  the  penal  sanctions  of  reli- 
gion could  have  no  place.  For,  whom  would  you  punish,  if  you 
make  such  a  one  as  this,  happy  ? — or  rather  indeed  religion  it- 
self, both  natural  and  revealed,  would  cease  to  have  either  use  or 
authority. 

2.  That  a  state  of  happiness  is  not  to  be  expected  by  those  who 
reserve  to  themselves  the  habitual  practice  of  any  one  sin  or  ne- 
glect of  one  known  duty. 

Because,  no  obedience  can  proceed  upon  proper  motives, 
which  is  not  universal ;  that  is,  which  is  not  directed  to  every  com- 
mand of  God  alike,  as  they  all  stand  iipon  the  same  authority- 

Because  such  an  allowance  would,  in  effect,  amount  to  a  toler- 
ation of  every  vice  in  the  world. 

And  because,  the  strain  of  Scripture  language  excludes  any 
such  hope.  When  our  duties  are  recited,  they  are  put  collec- 
tively, that  is,  as  all  and  every  of  them  required  in  the  Chrstian 
character.  "Add  to  your  faith  virtue,  and  to  virtue  knowledge, 
''and  to  knowledge  temperance,  and  to  temperance  patience,  and 
"  to  patience  godliness,  and  to  godliness  brotherly  kindness,  and 
''  to  brotherly  kindness  charity."*  On  the  other  hand,  when  vices, 

*  2  Pet.  i.  5,  6,  7. 


VIRTUS.  I  41 

tu-e  enumerated,  they  are  put  disjunctively,  that  is,  as  separately 
and  severally  excluding-  the  sinner  from  heaven.  "  Neither  for- 
tfnicators,  nor  idolaters,  nor  adulterers,  nor  effeminate,  nor  abu- 
"  sers  of  themselves  with  mankind,  nor  thieves,  nor  covetous,  nor 
"  drunkards,  nor  revilers,  nor  extortioners,  shall  inherit  the 
;' kingdom  of  heaven."* 

Those  texts  of  Scripture  which  seem  to  lean  a  contrary  way, 
as  "that  charity  shall  cover  the  multitude  of  sins;"f  that  "he 
"  which  converteth  a  sinner  from  the  error  of  his  way,  shall  hide 
"a  multitude  of  sins;"J  cannot,  I  think,  for  the  reasons  above- 
mentioned,  be  extended  fo  sins  deliberately  and  obstinately  per- 
sisted in. 

3.  That  a  state  of  mere  unprofitableness  will  not  go  unpun- 
ished. 

This  is  expressly  laid  down  by  Christ,  in  the  parable  of  the 
talents,  which  supersedes  all  further  reasoning  about  the  matter. 
"  Then  he  which  had  received  one  talent,  came  and  said,  Lord, 
"  I  know  thee  that  thou  art  an  austere  man,  reaping  where  thou 
"  hast  not  sown,  and  gathering  where  thou  hast  not  strewed ;  and 
"  I  was  afraid  and  hid  thy  talent  in  the  earth :  Lo,  there  thou 
"  hast  that  is  thine.  His  lord  answered  and  said  unto  him,  Thou 
"wicked  and  slothful  servant,  thou  knewest  (or  knewest  thou?) 
"  that  I  reap  where  I  sowed  not,  and  gather  where  I  have  not 
"strewed;  thou  oughtest  therefore  to  have  put  my  money  to  the 
"  exchangers,  and  then  at  my  coming  I  should  have  received; 
"  mine  own  with  usury.  Take  therefore  the  taltfnt  from  him,  and 
"  give  it  unto  him  which  hath  ten  talents :  for  unto  every  one  that 
"  hath  shall  be  given,  and  he  shall  have  abundance ;  but  from  him 
"  which  hath  not,  shall  be  taken  away  even  that  which  he  hath ; 
"onrf  cast  ye  that  unprofitable  servant  into  outer  darkness,  there 
-'  shall  be  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth." b 

III.  In  every  question  of  conduct,  where  one  side  is  doubtful, 
and  the  other  side  safe,  we  are  bound  to  take  the  safe  side. 

This  is  best  explained  by  an  instance ;  and  I  know  of  none  more 
to  our  purpose  than  that  of  suicide.  Suppose,  for  example's  sake, 
that  it  appear  doubtful  to  a  reasoner  upon  the  subject,  whether 
he  may  lawfully  destroy  himself.  He  can  have  no  doubt  but  thai 
it  is  lawful  for  him  to  let  it  alone.  Here  therefore  is  a  case,  in 
which  one  side  is  doubtful,  and  the  other  side  safe.  By  virtue 

therefore  of  our  rule,  he  is  bqund  to  pursue  the  safe  side,  that  is,  to 

( 

*  1  Cor.  vi.  9, 10,       flPet.  iv.  8.      J  James  v.  20.       §  Mat,  xxv.  24,  etc. 


43  VIRTUE. 

forbear  from  offering  violence  to  himself,  whilst  a  doubt  remains 
upon  his  mind  concerning  the  lawfulness  of  suicide. 

It  is  prudent,  you  allow,  to  take  the  safe  side.  But  our  obser- 
vation means  something  more.  We  assert  that  the  action,  con- 
cerning which  we  doubt,  whatever  it  may  be  in  itself,  or  to  an- 
other, would,  in  us,  whilst  this  doubt  remains  upon  our  minds,  be 
certainly  sinful.  The  case  is  expressly  so  adjudged  by  Saint 
Paul,  with  whose  anthority  we  will  for  the  present  rest  contented. 
— "  1  know  and  am  persuaded  by  the  Lord  Jesus,  that  there  is 
"  nothing  unclean  of  itself;  but  to  him  that  esteemeth  any  thing 
"to  be  unclean,  to  him  it  is  unclean, — Happy  is  he  that  condem- 
"  neth  not  himself  in  that  thing  which  he  alloweth  ;  and  he  that 
"  doubteth  is  damned  (condemned)  if  he  eat,  for  whatsoever  is 
-  not  of  faith,  (i.  e.  not  done  with  a  full  persuasion  of  the  lawful- 
•!  ness  of  it)  is  sin."* 

*  Rom.  xivt  14, 22, 23. 


BOOK  II, 

MORAL  OBLIGATION. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  aUESTION  WHY- AM  I  OBLIGED  TO  KEEP  MY  WORD? 
CONSIDERED. 

WHY  am  I  obliged  to  keep  my  word  ?  - 

Because  it  is  right,  says  one. — Because  it  is  agreeable  to  the 
fitness  of  things,  says  another. — Because  it  is  conformable  to  rea- 
son and  nature,  says  a  third. — Because  it  is  conformable  to  truth, 
says  a  fourth. — Because  it  promotes  the  public  good,  says  a  fifth. 
—Because  it  is  required  by  the  will  of  God,  concludes  a  sixth. 

Upon  which  different  accounts  two  things  are  observable  : — 

FIRST,  That  they  all  ultimately  coincide. 

The  fitness  of  things,  means  their  fitness  to  produce  happiness , 
the  nature  of  things,  means  that  actual  constitution  of  the  world . 
by  which  some  things,  as  such  and  such  actions,  for  example,  pro- 
duce happiness,  and  others  misery  ;  reason  is  the  principle  by 
which  we  discover  or  judge  of  this  constitution  ;  truth  is  this 
judgment  expressed  or  drawn  out  into'  propositions.  So  that  it 
necessarily  comes  to  pass,  that  what  promotes  the  public  happiness, 
or  happiness  upon  the  whole,  is  agreeable  to  the  fitness  of  things ; 
to  nature,  to  reason,  and  to  truth ;  and  such  (as  will  appear  by- 
and-by)  is  the  divine  character,  that  what  promotes  the  general 
happiness  is  required  by  the  will  of  God,  and  what  has  all  the 
above  properties,  must  needs  be  right ;  for  right  means  no  more 
than  conformity  to  th.e  rule  we  go  by,  whatever  that  rule  be. 

And  this  is  the  reason'that  moralists,  from  whatever  different 
principles  they  set  out,  commonly  meet  in  their  conclusions; 
that  is,  they  enjoin  the  same  conduct,  prescribe  the  same  rules  of 
duty,  and,  with  a  few  exceptions,  deliver  upon  dubious  cases,  tho 
same  determinations. 


44  MORAL  OBLIGATION. 

SECONDLY,  It  is  to  be  observed,  that  these  answers  all  leave 
the  matter  short ;  for  the  inquirer  may  turn  round  upon  his  teach- 
er with  a  second  question,  in  which  he  will  expect  to  be  satisfied, 
namely,  why  am  I  obliged  to  do  what  is  right ;  to  act  agreeably 
to  the  fitness  of  things ;  to  conform  to  reason,  nature  or  truth ;  to 
promote  the  public  good ;  or  to  obey  the  will  of  God  ? 

The  proper  method  of  conducting  the  inquiry  is,  FIRST,  To 
examine  what  we  mean,  when  we  say  a  man  is  obliged  to  do  any 
thing;  and  THEN  to  show  why  he  is  obliged  to  do  the  thing 
which  we  have  proposed  as  an  example,  namely,  "  to  keep  hi? 
word." 


CHAPTER  II. 

WHAT  WE  MEAN  WHEN  WE  SAY  A  MAN  IS  OBLIGED 
TO  DO  A  THING. 

A  MAN  is  said  to  be  obliged,  "  when  he  is  urged  by  a.molent  mo- 
"tive  resulting  from  the  command  of  another." 

FIRST,  "  The  motive  must  be  violent."  If  a  person,  who  has 
done  me  some  little  service,  or  has  a  small  place  in  his  disposal, 
ask  me  for  my  vote  upon  some  occasion,  I  may  possibly  give  it 
him,  from  a  motive  of  gratitude  or  expectation  ;  but  I  should 
hardly  say  that  I  was  obliged  to  give  it  him,  because  the  induce- 
ment does  not  rise  high  enough.  Whereas,  if  a  father  or  a  mas- 
ter, any  great  benefactor,  or  one  on  whom  my  fortune  depends, 
require  my  vote,  I  give  it  him  of  course ;  and  my  answer  to  all 
who  ask  me  why  I  voted  so  and  so,  is,  that  my  father  or  my  mas- 
ter obliged  me ;  that  I  had  received  so  many  favours  from,  or  had 
so  great  a  dependance  upon  such  a  one,  that  I  was  obliged  to 
vote  as  he  directed  me. 

SECONDLY,  "It  must  result  from  the  command  of  another.' 
Offer  a  man  a  gratuity  for  doing  any  thing,  for  seizing,  for  exam- 
ple, an  offender,  he  is  not  obliged  by  your  offer  to  do  it ;  nor 
would  he  say  he  is,  though  he  may  be  induced,  persuaded,  pre- 
vailed upon,  tempted.  If  a  magistrate,  or  the  man's  immediate 
superior,  command  it,  he  considers  himself  as  obliged  to  comply. 
though  possibly  he  would  lose  less  by  a  refusal  in  this  case  than 
in  the  former. 

I  will  not  undertake  to  say,  that  the  words  obligation  and  oblig- 
ed, are  used  uniformly  in  this  sense,  or  always  with  this  distinc- 
tion ;  nor  is  it  possible  to  tie  down  popular  phrases  to  any  constant 


MORAL    OBLIGATION.  4.J 

signification  ;  but,  wherever  the  motive  is  violent  enough,  and 
coupled  with  the  idea  of  command,  authority,  law,  or  the  will  of 
a  superior,  there,  I  take  it,  we  always  reckon  ourselves  to  be 
obliged. 

And  from  this  account  of  obligation  it  follows,  that  we  can  be  ' 
obliged  to  nothing  but  what  we  ourselves  are  to  gain  or  lose 
something  by  ;  for  nothing  else  can  be  a  "  violent  motive"  to  us. 
As  we  should  not  be  obliged  to  obey  the  laws,  or  the  magistrate, 
unless  rewards  or  punishments,  pleasure  or  pain,  somehow  or  oth- 
er depended  upon  our  obedience ;  so  neither  should  we,  without; 
the  same  reason,  be  obliged  to  do  what  is  right,  to  practise  virtue, 
or  to  obey  the  commands- of  God. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  Q.UESTION,  WHY  AM  i  OBLIGED  TO  KEEP  MY  WORD;. 
RESUMED. 

LET  it  be  remembered,  that  to  be  obliged,  "is  to  be  urged  by 
••  a  violent  motive,  resulting  from  the  command  of  another." 

And  then  let  it  be  asked,  Why  am  I  obliged  to  keep  my  word  ? 
and  the  answer  will  be,  Because  I  am  "  urged  to  do  .so  by  a  vio- 
"lent  motive,"  (namely,  the  expectation  of  being,  after  this  life 
rewarded  if  I  do,  or  punished  for  it  if  I  do  not,)  "  resulting  from 
"  the  command  of  another,"  (namely,  of  God.) 

This  solution  goes  to  the  bottom  of  the  subject,  as  no  further 
question  can  reasonably  be  asked. 

Therefore,  private  happiness  is  our  motive,  and  the  will  of  God 
our  rule. 

When  I  first  turned  my  thoughts  to  moral  speculations,  an  air 
of  mystery  seemed  to  hang  over  the  whole  subject ;  which  arose, 
I  believe,  from  hence — that  I  supposed,  with  many  authors  whom 
I  had  read,  that  to  be  obliged  to  do  a  thing,  was  very  different 
from  being  induced  only  to  do  it ;  and  that  the  obligation  to  prac  - 
tise  virtue,  to  do  what  is  right,  just,  &c.  was  quite  another  thing-, 
and  of  another  kind,  than  the  obligation  which  a  soldier  is  undef 
to  obey  his  officer,  a  servant  his  master,  or  any  of  the  civil  and 
ordinary  obligations  of  human  life.  Whereas  from  what  has 
been  said  it  appears,  that  moral  obligation  is  like  all  other  obliga  - 
tions  ;  and  that  obligation  is  nothing  more  than  an  inducement  of 
5 


46  MORAL    OBLIGATION. 

sufficient  strength,  and  resulting  in  someway  from  the  command 
of  another. 

There  is  always  understood  to  be  a  difference  between  an  act 
of  prudence  and  an  act  of  duty.  Thus,  if  I  distrusted  a  man  who 
owed  me  money,  I  should  reckon  it  an  act  of  "prudence  to  get  an- 
other bound  with  him  :  but  I  should  hardly  call  it  an  act  of  duty. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  would  be  thought  a  very  unusual  and  loose 
kind  of  language  to  say,  that,  as  I  had  made  such  a  promise,  it 
was  prudent  to  perform  it :  or  that,  as  my  friend,  when  he  went 
abroad,  placed  a  box  of  jewels  in  my  hands,  it  would  be  prudent 
in  me  to  preserve  it  for  him  till  he  returned. 

Now,  in  what,  you  will  ask,  does  the  difference  consit  ?  inas- 
much as,  according  to  our  account  of  the  matter,  both  in  the'one 
case  and  the  other,  in  acts  of  duty  as  well  as  acts  of  prudence, 
we  consider  solely  what  we  shall  gain  or  lose  by  the  act. 

The  difference,  and  the  only'  difference,  is  this,  that,  in  the  one 
case,  we  consider  what  we  shall  gain  or  lose  in  the  present  world; 
in  the  other  case,  we  consider  also  what  we  shall  gain  or  lose  in 
the  world  to  come. 

Those  who  would  establish  a  system  of  morality,  independent  of 
a  future  state,  must  look  out  for  some  different  idea  of  moral  obli- 
gation, unless  they  show  that  virtue  conducts  the  possessor  to  cer- 
tain happiness  in  this  life,  or  to  a  much  greater  share  of  it  than 
he  could  attain  b}'  a  different  behaviour. 

To  us  there -are  two  great  questions  : 

I.  Will  there  be  after  this  life  any  distribution  of  rewards  ant! 
punishments  at  all  ? 

II.  If  there  be,  what  actions,  will  be  rewarded,  and  what  will 
be  punished  ? 

The  first  question  comprises  the  credibility  of  the  Christian  re- 
ligion, together  with  the  presumptive  proofs  of  a  future  retribution 
from  the  light  of  nature.  The  second  question  comprises  the  pro- 
vince of  morality.  Both  questions  are  too  much  for  one  work. 
The  affirmative,  therefore,  of  the  first  although  we  confess  that  it 
is  the  foundation  upon  which  the  whole  fabric  rests,  must  in  this 
treatise  be  taken  for  granted. 


THE  WILL  OF   GOB.  4T 

CHAPTER  IV. 

-  .  THE  WILL  OF  GOD. 

As  the  will  of  God  is  our  rule,  to-  inquire  what  is  our  duty  or 
what  we  are  obliged  to  do,  in  any  instance  is,  in  effect,  to  in- 
quire, what  is  the  will  of  God  in  that  instance,  which  consequently 
becomes  the  whole  business  of  morality. 

Now,  there  are  two  methods  of  coming  at  the  will  of  God  on 
any  point : 

I.  By  his  express  declaration,  when  they  are  to  be  had,  which 
must  be  sought  for  in  Scripting. 

II.  By  what  we  can  discover  of  his  designs  and  disposition 
from  his  works  ;  or  as  we  usually  call  it,  the  light  of  nature. 

And  here  we  may  observe  the  absurdity  of  separating  natural 
and  revealed  religion  from  each  other.  The  object  of  both  is  the 
same,  to  discover,  the  will  of  God, — and,  provided  we  do  but  dis- 
cover it,  it  matters  nothing,  by  what  means. 

An  ambassador,  judging  only  from  what  he  knows  of  his  sove- 
reign's disposition,  and  arguing  from  what  he  has  observed  of 
Lis  conduct,  or  is  acquainted  with,  of  his  designs,  may  take  his 
measures  in  many  cases  with  safety,  and  presume  with  great  pro- 
bability how  his  master  would  have  him  act  on  most  occasions 
that  arise;  but. if  he  have  his  commission  and  instructions  in  his 
pocket,  it  would  be  strange  never  to  look  into  them.  He  will 
naturally  conduct  himself. by  both  rules  ;  when  his  instructions 
are  clear  and  positive,  there  is  an  end  of  all  farther  deliberation  ; 
(unless,  indeed,  he  suspect  their  authenticity;)  where-his  instruc- 
tions are  silent  or.  dubious,  he  will  endeavour  to  supply  or  ex- 
plain them,  by  what  he  has  been  able  to  collect  from  other  quar- 
ters of  his  mastf-'s  general  inclinations  or  intentions. 

Mr.  Hume,  in  his  four  U  Appendix  to  his  Principles  of  Mor- 
als, has  been  pleased  to  complain  of  the  modern  scheme  of  uniting 
Ethics  with  the  Christian  Theology.  Those  who  find  them- 
selves disposed  to  join  in  this  complaint,  will  do  well  to  observe 
what  Mr.  Hume  himself  has  been  able  to  make  of  morality  with- 
out this  union.  AnJ  for  that  purpose  let  them  read  the  second 
part  of  the  ninth  section  of  the  above  «ssay,  which  part  contains 
the  practical  application  of  the  whole  treatise,-ra  treatise,  whicli 
Mr.  Hume  declares  to  be  "  incomparably  the  be.st  he  ever 
"  wrote."  When  t;iey  have  read  it  over,  let  them  consider  whe- 
ther any  motives  there  proposed  are  likely  to  be  found  sufficient  to 


48  THE   DIVINE   BENEVOLENCE. 

withhold  men  from  the  gratification  of  lust,  revenge,  envy,  ambi 
tion,  avarice,  or  to  prevent  the  existence  of  these  passions.  Unless 
they  rise  up  from  this  celebrated  essay  with  very  different  impres- 
sions upon  their  minds  than  it  ever  left  upon  mine,  they  will  ac- 
knowledge the  necessity  of  additional  sanctions.  But  the  necessity 
of  tliese  sanctions  is  not  now  the  question.  If  they  be  ihfaci  esta- 
blished, if  the  rewards  and  punishments  held  forth  in  the  Gospel 
will  actually  come  to  pass  they  must  be  considered.  Those  who 
reject  the  Christian  religion  are  to  make  the  best  shift  they  can 
to  build  up  a  system,  and  lay  the  foundations  of  morality  without 
it.  But  it  appears  to  me  a  great  ^consistency  in  those  who  re- 
ceive Christianity  and  expect  something  to  come  of  it,  to  endeavor 
to  keep  all  such  expectations  out  of  sight  in  their  reasonings  con- 
cerning human  duty. 

The  method  of  coming  at  the  will  of  God  concerning  any  ac- 
tion, by  the  light  of  nature,  is  to  inquire  into  "  the  tendency  of 
"the  action  to  promote  or  diminish  the  general  iappiness."  This 
rule  proceeds  upon  the  presumption,  that  God  Almighty  wills  and 
wishes  the  happiness  of  his  creatures ;  and,  consequently,  that 
those  actions  which  promote  that  will  and  wish,  must  be  agreea- 
ble to  him ;  and  the  contrary. 

As  this  presumption  is  the  foundation  of  the  whole  system,  it 
becomes  necessary  to  explain  the  reasons  upon  which  it  rests. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  DIVINE  BENEVOLENCE. 

.  WHEN  God  Created  the  human  species,  either'he  wished  their 
happiness  or  he  wished  their  misery,  or  he  was  indifferent  and  un- 
concerned about  both. 

If  he  had  wished  our  misery,  he  might  have  made  sure  <  f  his 
imrpose,  by  forming  our  senses  to  be  as  many  sores  and  pains  to 
us,  as  they  are  now  instruments  of  gratification  and  enjoyment; 
or  by  placing  us  amidst  objects  so  ill-suited  to  our  perceptions,  as 
to  have  continually  offended  us,  instead  of  mjnistering  to  our  re- 
freshment and  delight,  He  might  have  made,  for  example,  every 
thing  we  tasted  bitter ;  every  thing  we  saw  loathsome  ;  every- 
thing we  touched  a  sting ;  every  smell  a  stench ;  and  every  sound 
!\  discord. 

If  he  had  been  indifferent  about  our  happiness  or  misery,  we 


THE    DIVINE  BENEVOLESCE.  49 

Must  impute  to  our  good  fortune,  (as  all  design  by  this  supposi- 
tion  is  excluded)  both  the  capacity  of  our  senses  to  receive  pleas- 
ure, and  the  supply  of  external  objects  fitted  to  excite  it. 

But  cither  of  these  (and  still  more  both  of  them)  being  too 
much  to  be  attributed  to  accident,- nothing  remains  but  the  first 
supposition,  that  God,-  when  he  created  the  human  species,  wish- 
ed their  happiness ;  and  made  for  them  the  provision  which  he  has 
made,  with  that  view,  and  for  that  purpose. 

The  same  argument  may  be  proposed  in  different  terms,  thus: 
Contrivance  proves  design  ;  and  the  predominant  tendency  of  the 
contrivance  indicates  the  disposition  of  the  designer.     The  world 
abounds  with  contrivances ;.  and  all  the  contrivances  which  we  are 
acquainted  with,  are  directed  to  beneficial  purposes..   Evil,  no 
doubt,  exists ;  but  it  is  never,  that  we  can  perceive,  the  object  of 
contrivance.     Teeth  are  contrived  to  eat,  not  to  ache ;  their  ach- 
ing now  and  then,  is  incidental  to  the  contrivance,  perhaps  insep- 
arable from  it :  or  even,  if  you  will,  let  it  be  called  a  defect  in  Ihe 
contrivance;  but  it  is  not  the  object  of  it.     This  is  a  distinction, 
which  well  deserves  to  be  attended  to.    In  describing  implements 
of  husbandry,  you  would  hardly  say  of  a  sickel,  that  it  is  made  to 
cut  the  reaper's  fingers,  though  from  the  construction  of  the  in- 
strument, and  the  manner  of  using  it,,  this  mischief  often  happens. 
But  if  you  had  occasion  to  describe  instruments  of  torture  or  ex- 
ecution, this,  you  would  say,  is  to  extend  the  sinews;  this  to  dis- 
locate the  joints  ;  this  to  break  the  bones ;  this  to  scorch  the  soles 
of  the  feet.     Here,  pain  and  misery  are  the  very  objects  of  the 
contrivance.     Now,  nothing  of  this  sort   is  to  be  found  in  the 
works  of  nature.     We  never  discover  a  train  of  contrivance  to 
bring  about  an  evil  purpose.     No  anatomist  ever  discovered  a  sys- 
tem of  organization  calculated  to  produce  pain  and  disease ;  or, 
in  explaining  the  parts  of  the  human  body,  ever  said,  this  is  to 
irntate  ;  this  to  inflame  ;  this  duct  is  to  convey  the  gravel  to  the 
kidneys  ;  this  gland  to  secrete  the  humour  which  forms  the  gout; 
If  by  chanqe  he  come  at  a  part  of  which  he  knows  not  the  use, 
the  most  he  can  say  is,  that  it  is  useless ;  no  one  ever  suspects  that 
it  is  put  there  to  incommode,  to  annoy,  or  torment.     Since  then 
God  hath  called  forth  his  consummate  wisdom  to  contrive  and 
provide  for  our  happiness,  and  the  world  appears  to  have  been 
constituted  with  this  ;es!<n>  at  first,  so  long  as  this  constitution  is 
upheld  by  him,  we  must  in  reason  suppose  the  same  design  to  con- 
tinue. 

The  contemplation  of  universal  nature  rather  bewilders  the 

5* 


50  UTILITY. 

mind  than  affects  it.  There  is  always  a  bright  spot  in  the  pros- 
pect, upon  which  the  eye  rests ;  a  single  example,  perhaps,  by 
which  each  man  finds  himself  more  convinced  than  by  all  others 
put  together.  I  seem,  for  my  own  part,  to  see  the  benevolence 
of  the  Deity  more  clearly  in  the  pleasures  of  very  young  chil- 
dren, than  in  any  thing  in  the  world.  The  pleasures  of  grown 
persons  may  be  reckoned  partly  of  their  o'wn  procuring ;  -espe- 
cially if  there  has  been  any  industry,  or  contrivance,  or  pursuit, 
to  come  at  them  ;  or  if  they  are  founded,  like  music,  painting, 
&c.  upon  any  qualification  of  their  own  acquiring.  But  the 
pleasures  of  a  healthy  infant  are  so  manifestly  provided  for  it  by 
another,  and  the  benevolence  of  the  provision  is  so  unquestiona- 
ble, that  every  child  I  see  at  its  sport,  affords  to  my  mind  a  kind 
of  sensible  evidence  of  the  finger  of  "God,  and  of  the  disposition 
which  directs  it. 

But  the  example  which  strikes  each  man  most  strongly,  is  the 
true  example  for  him  :  and  hardly  two  minds  hit  upon  the  same  ; 
which  shows  the  abundance  of  such  examples  about  us. 

We  conclude,  therefore,  that  God  wills  and  wishes  the  happi- 
ness of  his  creatures.  And  this  conclusion  being  once  establish- 
ed, we  are  at  liberty  to  go  on  with  the  rule  built  upon  it,  name- 
ly, "  that  the  method  of  coming  at  the  will  of  God,  concerning 
"  any  action,  by  the  light  of  nature,  is  to  inquire  into  the  tenden- 
:t  cy  of  that  action  to  promote  or  diminish  the  general  happiness.'/ 


CHAPTER  VI. 

UTILITY. 

So  then  actions  are  estimated  by  their  tendency  to  promote 
happiness.*  Whatever  is  expedient,  is  right.  It  is  the  utility  ol 
nny  moral  rule  alone  which  constitutes  the  obligation  of  it. 

But  to  all  this,  there  seems  a  plain  objection,  viz.  that  many  ac- 
. 

*  Actions  in  the  abstract  are  right  or  .wrong,  according  to  their  tendency;  the 
agent  is  virtuous  or  vicious,  according  to  his  dt*i-aa..  Thus,  if  the  question 
he,  Whether  relieving  common  beggars  be  right  or  wrong  ?  we  inquire  into  the 
tendency  of  such  a  conduct  to  th'e  public  advantage  or  inconvenience.  If  the 
question  be,  Whether  a  man  remarkable  for  this  sort  of  bounty  is  to  be  esteemed 
virtuous  QJ  vicious  for  that  reason?  \ve  inquire  into  his  design,  Whether  his 
liberality  sprang  from  charity  or  from  ostentation?  It  is_evident  that  our con- 
•etn  is  with  actions  in  the  abstract. 


{tons  are  useful,  which  no  man  in  his  senses  will  allow  to  be  right. 
There  are  occasions,  in  which  the  hand  of  the  assassin  would  be 
very  useful: — The  present  possessor  of  some  great  estate  employs 
his  influence  and  fortune  to  annoy,  corrupt,  or  oppress  all  about 
aim.  His  estate  would  devolve,  by  his  death,  to  a  successor  of  an 
opposite  character.  It  is  useful,  therefore,  to  despatch  such  a 
one  as  soon  as  possible  out  »f  the  .way ;  as  the  neighbourhood 
would  exchange  thereby  a  pernicious  tyraut  for  a  wise  and  gene- 
rous benefactor.  It  may  be  useful  to  rob  a  miser,  and  give  the 
money  to  the  poor  ;  as  the  money >  no  doubt,  would  produce  more 
happiness,  by  being  laid 'out  in  food  and  clothing  for  half  a  dozen 
distressed  families,  than,  by  continuing  locked  up  in  a  miser's 
chest.  It  may  be  useful  to  get  possession  of  a  place,  a  piece  of 
preferment,  or  of  a  seat  -in  Parliament,  by  bribery  or  false  swear- 
ing ;  as  by  means  of  them  we  may  serve  the  public  more  effectu- 
ally than  in  our  own  private  station.  What  then  shall  we  say  ' 
Must  we  admit  these  actions  to  be  right,  which  would  be,  to  justi- 
fy assassination,  plunder,  and  perjury  ;  or  must  we  give  up  our 
principle,  that  the  criterion  of  right  is  utility  ? 

It  is  not  necessary  te  do  either. 

The  true  answer  is  this-;  that  these  actions,  after  all,  are  not 
useful,  and  for  that  reason .  and  that  alone,  are  not  right. 

To  see  this  point  perfectly,  it  must  be  observed 'that  the  bad 
consequences  of  actions  are  twofold,  particular  arid  general. 

The  particular  bad  consequence  of  an  action,  is  the  mischief 
which  that  single  action  direc'.ly  and  immediately  occasions. 

The  general  bad  consequence  is,  the  violation  of  some  neces- 
sary or  useful  general  rule. 

Thus,  the  particular  bad  consequence  of  the  assassination  above 
described,  is  the  fright  and  pain  which  the  deceased  underwent ; 
the  loss  he  suffered  of  life,  which  is  as  valuable  to  a  bad  man  as  to 
a  good  one,  or  more  so ;  the  prejudice  and  affliction,  of  which  his 
death  was  the  occasion,  to  his  family,  friends,'  and  dependants. 

The  general  bad  consequence  is  the  violation  of  this  necessary 
general  rule,  that  no  man  be  put  to  death  for  his  crimes,  but  by 
public  authority. 

Although,  therefore,  such  an  action  have  no  particular  bad  conr 
sequences,  or  greater  particular  good  consequences,  yet  it  is  not- 
useful,  -by  reason  of  the  general  consequence,  which  is  evil,  and 
which  is  of  more  importance.  And  the  same  of  the  other  two  in- 
stances, and  of  a  million  more,  which  might  be  mentioned. 

But  as  this  solution  supposes,  that  the  moral  g-overament  of  the 


02  THE  NECESSITY  OP  GENEEAt  RULES. 

world  must  proceed  by  general  rules,  it  remains  that  we  show  tl 

necessity  of  this. 


CHAPTER  VIZ. 

THE  NECESSITY  OF  GENERAL  RULES. 

You  cannot  permit  one  action  aud  forbid  another,  without 
showing  a  difference  betwixt  them.  Therefore,  the  same  sort  ot 
actions  must  be  generally  permitted,  or  generally  forbidden.— 
Where,  therefore,  the  general  permission  of  them  would  be  per- 
nicious, it  becomes  necessary  to  lay  down  and  support  the  rule 
which  generally  forbids  them. 

Thus,  to  return  once  more  to  the  case  of  the  assassin.  The  as- 
sassin knocked  the  rich  villain  on  the  head,  because  he  thought 
him  better  out  of  the  way,  than  in  it.  If  you  allow  this  excuse 
in  the  present  instance,  you  must  allow  it  to  all  who  act  in  the 
same  manner,  and  from  the  same  motive  ;.  that  is,  you  must  al- 
low every  man  to  kill  any  one  he  meets,  whom  he  thinks  nox- 
ious or  useless  ;  which,  in  the  event,  would  be  to  commit  every 
man's  life  and  safety  to-  the  spleen,  fury,  and  fanaticism  of  his 
neighbour  ;  a  disposition  of  affairs  which  would  presently  fill  the 
world  with  misery  and  confusion  ;  and  ere  long  put  an  end  to  hu- 
man society,  if  not  to  the  human  species. 

The  necessity  of  general  rules  in  human  governments  is  appa- 
rent ;  but  whether  the  same  necessity  subsists  in  the  Divine  econo- 
my, in  that  distribution  .  of  rewards  and  punishments  to  which  a 
moralist  looks  forward,  may  be  doubted.  * 

I  answer  that  general  rules  are  necessary  to  every  moral  gov- 
ernment; and  by  moral  government  I  mean  any  dispensation, 
whose  object  is  to  influence  the  conduct  of  reasonable  creatures. 
For  if,  of  two  actions  perfectly  similar,  one  be  punished,  and 
the  other  be  rewarded  or  forgiven,  which  is  the  consequence  of 
rejecting  general  rules,  the  subject  of  such  a  dispensation  would 
no  longer  know,  either  what  to  expect  or  how  to  act.  Rewards 
and  punishments  would  cease  to  be  such — would  become  acci- 
dents. Like  the  stroke  of  a  thunderbolt,  or  the  discovery  of  a 
mine,  like  a  blank  or  a  benefit  ticket  in  a  lottery,  they,  would 
occasion  pain  or  pleasure  when  they  happened  ;  but,  following:  in 
.  no  known  order,  from  any  particular  course  of  action  they  could 
have  no  previous  influence  or  effect  upon  the  conduct, 


THE   NECESSITY  OF    GENERA!/   KtTLES.  53 

An  attention  to  general  rules,  therefore,  is  included  in  the  very 
idea  of  reward  and  punishment.  Consequently,  whatever  reason 
there  is  to  expect  future  reward  and  punishment  at  the  hand  ol 
God,  there  is  the  same  reason  to  believe,  that  he  will  proceed  in 
the  distribution  of  it  by  general  rules. 

Before  we  prosecute  the  consideration  of  general  consequences 
any  further,  it  may  be  proper  to  anticipate  a  reflection,  which 
will  be  apt  enough  to  suggest  itself  in  the  progress  of  our  argu- 
ment. 

As  the  general  consequence  of  an  action,  upon  which  so  much 
of  the  guilt  of  a  bad  action  depends,  consists  in  the  example;  it 
should  seem,  that  if  (he  action  be  done  with  perfect  secrecy,  so 
as  to  furnish  no  bad  example,  that  part  of  the  guilt  drops  off. 
In  the  case  of  suicide,  for  instance,  if  a  man  can  so  manage  mat- 
ters as  to  take  away  his  own. life,  without  being  known  or  sus- 
pected to  have  done  if,  he  is  not  chargeable  with  any  mischief  from 
the  example  ;  nor  does  his  punishment  seem  necessary,  in  order 
to  save  the  authority  of  any  general  rule. 

In  the  first  place,  those  who  reason  in  this  manner  do  not  ob- 
serve, that  they  are  setting  up  a  general  rule,  of  all  others  the 
least  to  be  endured ;  namely,  that  secrecy,  whenever  secrecy  is 
practible,  will  justify  any  action. 

Were  such  a  rule  admitted,  for  instance,  in  the  case  above  pro- 
duced, is  there  not  reason  to  fear,  that  people  would  be  disap- 
pearing perpetually  ? 

In  the  next  place,  1  would  wish  them  to  be  well  atisfied  about 
the  points  proposed  in  the  following  queries  : 

1.  Whether  the  Scriptures  do  not  teach  us  to  expect  that  at 
the  general  judgment  of  the  world,  the  most  secret  actions  will 
be  brougat  to  light?* 

2.  For  what  purpose  can  this  be,  but  to.make  them  the  objects 
of  reward  and  punishment  ? 

3.  Whether,  being  so  brought  to  light,  they  win  not  fall  under 
the  operation  of  those  equal  and  impartial  rules,  by  which  God 
will  deal  with  his  creatures  ? 

They  will  then  become  examples,  whatever  they  be  now  ;  and: 
require  the  same  treatment  from  the,  Judge  and  Governor  of  the 
moral  world,  as  if  they  had  been  detected  from  the  first. 

*"In  the  day  .when  God  shall  judge  the  secrets  of  men  by  Jesus  Christ.' 
Rom.  xi.  16.—"  Judge  nothing  before  the  time,  until  the  Lord  come,  who  wilt 
••'  bring  to  light  the  hidden  things  of  darkness,  and  will  make  manifest  the  coun 
"sels  of  the  heart,"  1  Cor.  iv,  5. 


54  THE   CONSIDERATION  OF 

CHAPTER  VIII, 

THE  CONSIDERATION  OF  GENERAL  CONSEdUENCES  PURSUED, 
THE  general  consequence  of  any  action  may  be  estimated,  by 
asking  what  would  be  the  consequence  if  the  same  sort  of  action? 
were  generally  permitted.  But  suppose  they  were,  and  a  thou- 
sand such  actions  perpetrated  under  this  permission,  is  it  just  to 
charge  a  single  action  with  the  collected  guilt  and  mischief  of  the 
\phole  thousand  ?  I  answer,  that  the  reason  for  prohibiting  and 
punishing  an  action,  (and  this  reason  may  be  called  the  guilt  of 
the  action,  if  you  please)  will  always  be  in  proportion  to  the 
whole  mischief  that  would  arise  from  the  general  impunity  and 
toleration  of  actions  of  the  same  sort. 

"  Whatever  is  expedient  is  right."  But  then  it  mus.t  be  expe- 
dient upon  the  whole,  at  the  long  run,  in  all  its  effects  collateral 
and  remote,  as  well  as  in  those  which  are  immediate  and  direct ; 
as  it  is  obvious,  that,  in  computing  consequences,  it  makes  no  dif- 
ference in  what  way,  or  at  what  distance,  they  ensue. 

To  impress  this  doctrine  upon  the  minds  of  young  readers,  and 
to  teach  them  to  extend  their  views  beyond  the  immediate  mis* 
chief  of  a  crime,  I  shall  here  subjoin  a  string  of  instances,  in 
which  the  particular  consequence  is  comparatively  insignificant, 
and  -where  the  malignity  of  the  crime,  and  severity  with  which 
human  laws  pursue  it,  is  almost  entirely  founded  upon  the  gene- 
ral consequence. 

The  particular  consequence  of  coiuing  is,  the  loss  of  a  guinea, 
or  of  half  a  guinea,  to  the  person  who  receives  the  counterfeit  mo- 
ney; the  general  consequence  (by  which  I  mean  tke  consequence 
that  would  ensue,  if  the  same  practice  were  generally  permitted) 
is,  to  abolish  the  use  of  money. 

The  particular  consequence  of  forgery  is,  a  damage  of  twenty 
or  thirty  pounds  to  the  man  who  accepts  the  forged  bill;  the  gen- 
eral consequence  is,  the  stoppage  of  paper  currency. 

The  particular  consequence  of  sheep-stealing  or  horse  stealing 
is,  a  loss  to  the  owner,  to  the  amount  of  the  value  ef  the  sheep 
or  horse  stolen-;  the  general  consequence  is,  that  the  land  could 
not  be  occupied,  nor  the  market  supplied  with  this  kind  of  stock. 
The  particular  consequence  of  breaking  into  a  house  empty  oi 
inhabitants  is,  the  loss  of  a  pair  of  silver  candle-sticks,  or  a  few 
spoons  :  the  general  consequence  is,  that  nobody  could  leave  their 
house  empty. 


GENERAL    CONSEQUENCES   PURSUED.  jj 

The  particular  consequence  of  smuggling,  may"  be  a  deduction 
from  the  national  fund  too  minute  for  computation  :  the  general 
consequence  is,  the  destruction  of  one  entire  branch  of  public 
revenue,  a  proportionable  increase  of  the  burthen  upon  other 
branches,  and  the  ruin  of  all  fair  and  open  trade  in  the  article 
smuggled. 

The  particular  consequence  of  an  officer's  breaking  his  parole 
is,  the  loss  of  a  prisoner,  who  was  possibly  not  worth  keeping  ; 
the  general  consequence  is,  that  this  mitigation  of  captivity 
would  be  refused  to  all  others. 

And  what  proves  incontestably  the  superior  importance  of  gen- 
eral consequences  is  that  crimes  are  the  same,  and  treated  in  the 
same  manner,  though  the  particular  consequence  be  very  different. 
The  crime  and  fate  of  the  house-breaker  is  the  same,  whether 
his  booty  be  five  pounds  or  fifty.  And  the  reason  is,  that  the  gen- 
eral consequence  is  the  same.  ' 

The  want  of  this  distribution  between  particular  and  general 
consequences,  or  rather  the  not  sufficiently  attending  to  the  latter, 
is  the  cause  of  that  perplexity-  we  meet  with  in  ancient  moral- 
ists. On  the  one  hand,  they  were  sensible  of  the  absurdity  of 
pronouncing  actions  goorl  or  evil,  without  regard  to  the  good  or 
evil  they  produced.  On  the  other  hand,  they  were  startled  at 
the  conclusions  to  which  a  steady  adherence  to  the  consequences 
seemed  sometimes  to  conduct  them.  To  relieve  this  difficulty; 
they  contrived  the  honestum,  by  which  term  they  meant  to  con- 
stitute a  measure  of  right,  distinct  from  utility.  Whilst  the  utile 
served  them,  that  is,  whilst  it  corresponded  with  their  habitual 
notions  of  the  rectitude  of  actions,  thev  went  by  it.  When  they 
fell  in  with  such  cases  as  those  mentioned  in  the  sixth  chapter, 
they  took  leave  of  their  guide,  and  resorted  to  the  honestum. 
The  only  account  they  could  give  of  the  matter  was,  that  these 
actions  might  be  useful :  but,  because  they  were  not  at  the  same 
time  honesta,  they  were  by  no  means  to  be  deemed  just  or  right. 

From  the  principles  delivered  in  this  and  the  two  preceding 
chapters,  a  maxim  ma}-  be  explained,  which  is  in  every  man's 
mouth,  and  in  most  men's  without  meaning  ;  viz.  "  not  to  do  evil, 
"  that  good  may  come;''  that  is,  let  us  not  violate  a  general  rule, 
for  the  sake  of  any  particular  good  consequence  we  may  expect. 
Which  is  for  the  most  part  a  salutary  cantiou,  the  advantage  sel- 
Jom  compensating  for  the  violation  of  the  rule.  Strictly  speak- 
ing, that  cannot  be  "evil,"  from  which  "good  comes;1'  but  in 


56  OP    RIGHT. 

this  way,  and  with  a  view  to  the  distinction  between  particular 
and  general  consequences,  it  may. 

We  will  conclude  this  subjeet  of  consequences  with  the  follow- 
ing reflection  ;  A  man  may  imagine,  that  any  action  of  his,  with 
respect  to  the  public,?must  be  inconsiderable ;  so  also  is  the  agent. 
If  his  crime  produce  but  a  small  effect  upon 'the  universal  inte- 
rest, his  punishment  or  destruction  bears  a  small  proportion  to  the 
sum  of  happiness  and  misery  in  the  creation. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

OF  RIGHT. 

RIGHT  and  obligation  are  reciprocal ;  that  is,  wherever  there  is 
a  right  in  one  person,  there  is  a  corresponding  obligation' upon 
others.  If  one  man  has  a  "right  "-to  an  estate,  others  are 
•;  obliged"  to  abstain  from  it :  if  parents  have  a  "right"  to  rev- 
erence from  their  children,  children  are  "obliged"  to  reverence 
their  parents;  and  so  in  all  other  instances. 

Now,  because  moral  obligation  depends,  as  we  have  seen,  upon 
the  will  of  God,  right,  which  is  correlative  to  it,  must  depend 
upon  the  same.  Right  therefore  signifies  the  being  consistent  with 
the  will  of  God. 

If  the  divine  will  determines  the  distinction  of  right  and  wrong, 
what  else  is  it  but  an  identical  proposition,  to  say  of  God,  that  he 
acts  right  ?  or  how  is  it  possible  even  to  conceive  that  he  should 
act  wrong?  Yet  these  assertions  %f-e  intelligible  and  significant. 
The  case  is  this :  By  virtue  of  the  two  principles,  that  God  wills 
the  happiness  of  his  creatures,  and  that  the  will  of  God  is  the 
measure  of  right  and  wrong,  we  arrive  at  certaia  conclusions  ; 
which  conclusions  become  rules ;  and  we  soon  learn  to  pronounce 
actions  right  or  wrong,  according  as  they  agree  or  disagree  with 
our  rules,  without  looking  any  further :  and  when  the  habit  is  once 
established  of  stopping  at  the  rules,  we  can  go  back  and  compare 
with  these  rules  even  the  divine  conduct  itself ;  and  yet  it  may 
be  tr.ue,  (only  not  observed  by  us  at  the  time,)  that  the  rules. them- 
selves are  deduced  from  the  divine  will. 

Right  is  a  quality  of  persons  or  of  actions. 

Of  persons ;  as  when  we  say,  such  a  one  has  a  "  right "  to  this 
estate ;  parents  have  a  "  right "  to  reverence'  from  their  children ; 
the  king  to  allegiance  from  bis  subjects ;  masters  have  a  "  right" 


THE   DIVISION   OF   RIGHTS.  57 

to  their  servant's  labour;  a  man  has  not  a  " right"  over  his  own. 
life. 

Of  actions ;  as  in  such  expressions  as  the  following  :  it  is 
':  right"  to  punish  murder  with  death  ;  his  behaviour  on  that  oc- 
casion was  "right;"  it  is  not  "right"  to  send  an  unfortunate 
debtor  to  gaol ;  he  did  or  acted  "  right,"  who  gave  up  his  place, 
rather  than  vote  against  his  judgment. 

In  this  latter  set  of  expressions,  you  may  substitute  the  definition 
of  right  above  given  .for  the  term  itself;  v.  g.  it  is  "  consistent 
"  with  the  will  of  God"  to  "punish  murder  with  death; — his  be- 
haviour on  that  occasion  was  "  consistent  with  the  will  of  God  ;" 
— it  is  not  "consistent  with  the  will  of  God  "  to  send  an  unfortu- 
nate debtor  to  gaol  ; — he  did,  or  acted  "  consistently  with  the 
"  will  of  God,"  who  gave  up  his  place  rather  than  vote  against  his 
judgment. 

In  the  former  set  you  must  vary  the  phrase  a  little,  when  you 
introduce  the  definition  instead  of  the  term.  Such  a  one  has  a 
u  right"  to  this  estate",  that  is,  it  is  *' consistent  with  the  will  of 
•'  God"  that  such  a  one  should  have  it ; — parents  have  a  "  right" 
to  reverence  from  their  children,  that  is,  it  is  "  consistent  with 
•'  the  will  of  God  "  that  children  should  reverence  their  parents; — 
and  the  same  of  the  rest. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE  DIVISION  OF  RIGHTS. 
.  RIGHTS,  when  applied  to  persons,  are 
Natural  or  adventitious : 
Alienable  or  unalienable : 
Perfect  or  imperfect. 
I.  Rights  are  natural  or  adventitious. 

Natural  rights  are  such  as  would  belong  to  a  man,  although 
There  subsisted  in  the  world,  no  civil  government  whatever. 
Adventitious  rights  are  such  as  would  not. 
Natural  Rights  are,  a  man's  right  to  his  life,  limbs,  and  liber- 
ty ;  his  right  to  the  produce   of  his  personal  labour  ;  to  the  use  in 
common  with  others,  of  air,  light,  water.     If  a  thousand  different 
persons,  from  a  thousand  different  corners  of  the  world,  were  casf" 
together  upon  a  desert  island,  they  would  from  the  wfirst  be  every, 
one  entitled  to  these  rights. 
6 


3S  THE    DIVISIOS*    OF   RIGHTS, 

Adventitious  rights  are,  the  right  of  a  king  over  his  subjects  j 
of  a  general  over  his  soldiers  ;  of  a  judge  over  the  life  and  liberty 
of  a  prisoner ;  a  right  to  elect  or  appoint  magistrates,  to  impose 
taxes,  .decide  disputes,  direct  the  descent  or  disposition  of  proper- 
ty :  a  right,  in  a  word,  in  any  one.  man,  or  particular  body  of  men. 
to  make  laws  and  regulations  for  the  rest.  -For  none  of  these 
rights  would  exist  in  the  newly  inhabited  island. 

And  here  it  will  be  asked  how  adventitious  rights  are  created  : 
or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  how  any  new  lights  can  accrue  from 
the  establishment  of  civil  society  ?  as  rights  of  all  kinds,  we  re- 
member, depend  upon  the  will  of  God,  and  civil  society  is  but 
the  ordinance  and  institution  of  man.  For  the  solution  of  thiv 
difficulty,  we  must  return  to  our  first  principles.  God  wills  the 
happiness  of  mankind,  and  the  existence  of  civil  society,  as  condu- 
cive to  that  happiness.  Consequently,  many  things,  which  arc 
useful  for  the  support  of  civil  society  in  general,  or  for  the  con- 
duct and  conversation  of  particular  societies  already  established, 
are,  for  that  reason,  "consistent  with  the  will  of  God,"  or  "right," 
which,  without  that  reason,  i.  c.  without  the  establishment  of  ci- 
"vil  society,  would  not  Have  been  so. 

From  whencc-also  it  appears,  that  adventitious  rights,  "though 
immediately  derived  from  human  appointment,  are  not,  for  that 
reason,  less  sacred  than  natural  rights,  nor  the  obligation  to  res- 
pect them  less  cogent.  They  both  ultimately  rely  upon  the  same 
authority,  the  will  of  God.  Such  a  man  -claims  a  right  to  ;> 
particular  estate.  He  can  show,  it  is  true,  nothing  for  his  right, 
but  a  rule  of  the  civil  community  to  which  he  belongs  ;  and  this 
rule  may  be  arbitrary,  capricious,  and  absurd.  Notwithstanding 
all  this,  there  would  be  the  same  sin  in  dispossessing  the  man  of 
liis  estate  by  craR  or  violence,  as. if  it  had  been  assigned  to  him, 
like  the  partition  of  the  country  amongst  the  twelve  tribes,  by  the, 
immediate  designation  and  appointment  of  Heaven. 

II.  Hights  are  alienable  or  unalienable. 

Which  terms  explain  themselves. 

The  right  we  have  to  most  of  those  things  which  we  call  prop- 
erty, as  houses,  lands,  money,  &c.  is  alienable. 

The  right  of  a  prince  over  his  people,  of  a  husband  over  hi1- 
wife,  of  a  master  over  his  servants,  is  generally  and  naturally  un* 
alienable. 

The  distinction  depends  upon  the  mode  of  acquiring  the  right. 
If  the  right  originate  from  a  contract  and  be  limited  to  the  .person 
by  the  express  terms  of  the  contract,  or  'by  the  common  inter- 


THE   DIVISION   OF   BIGHTS.  59 

pretation  of  such  contracts,  (which  is  equivalent  to  ah  express 
stipulation,)  or  by  a  personal  condition  annexed  to  the  right :  then 
it  is  unalienable.  In  all  other  cases,  it  is  alienable. 

The  right  to  civil  liberty  is  alienable ;  though,  ia  the  vehe- 
mence of  men's  zeal  fof  it,  and  in  the  language  of  some  political 
remonstrances,  it  lias  often  been  pronounced  to  be  an  unalienable 
right.  The  true  reason  why  mankind  hold  in  detestation  the 
memory  of  those  who  have  sold  their  liberty  to  a  tyrant,  is,  that, 
together  with  their  own,  they  sold  commonly,  or  endangered, 
the  liberty  of  others ;  which  certainly  they  had  no  right  to  dis- 
pose of.  v 

III.  Rights  are  perfect  or  imperfect. 

Perfect  rights  may  be  asserted  by  force,  or,  what  iii  civil  soci- 
ety comes  into  the  place  of  private  force,  by  course,  of  law. 

Imperfect  rights  may  not. 

Examples  of  perfect  rights. — A  man's  right  to  his  life,  person, 
Iiouse;  for,  if  these  be  attacked,  he.  may  repel  the  attack  by  in- 
stant violence,  or  punish  the  aggressor  by  law  •  a  man's  right  to  his 
estate,  furniture,  clothes,  money,  and  to  all  ordinary  articles  of 
property ;  for,  if  they  be  injuriously  taken  from  him,  he  may  com- 
pel the  author  of  the  injury  to  make  restitution  or  satisfaction. 

Examples  of  imperfect  rights — In  elections  or  appointments  to 
offices,  where  the  qualifications  are  prescribed,  the  best  qualified 
candidate  has  a  right  to  success  ;  yet,  if  he  be  rejected,  he  has  no 
remedy.  He  can  neither  seize  the  office  by  force,  nor  obtain  re- 
dress at  law;  his  right  therefore  is  imperfect.  A  poor  neighbour 
lias  a  right  to  relief;  yet,  if  it  be  refused  him,  he  must  not  extort 
it.  A  benefactor  has  a  right  to  returns  of  gratitude  from  the  per- 
son he  has  obliged  ;  yet,  if  he  meet  with  none,  he  must  acquiesce. 
Children  have  a  right  to  affection  and  education  from  the^r  pa- 
rents ;  and  parents,  on  their  part,  to  duty  and  reverence  from 
their  children;  yet,  if  these  rights  be  on  either  side  withfcolden, 
there  is  no  compulsion  to  enforce  them.- 

It  may  be  at  first  view  difficult  to  apprehend  how  a  person  should 
iiave  a  right  to  a  thing-,  and  yet  have  no  right  to  use  the  means 
necessary  to  obtain  it.  This  difficulty,  like  most  others  in  mo- 
rality, is  resolvable  into  the  necessity  of  general  rules.  The  read- 
er recollects,  that  ia  person  is  said  to  have  a  "  right"  to  a  thing, 
when  it  is  "  consistent  with  the  will  of  God"  that  he  should  pos- 
sess it.  So  that  the  question  is  reduced  to  this  ;  how  it  comes  to 
pass  that  it  should  be  consistent  with  the  will  of  God  that  a'  per- 
son should  possess  a  thing-,  and  yet  not  be  consistent  with  the 


'jO  THE    DIVISION   OP   RIGHTS. 

same  will  tha't  he  should  use  force  to  obtain  it  ?  The  answer  is . 
that  the  permission  of  force  in  this  case,  because  of  the  indeter- 
minateness  either  of  the  object,  or  of  the  circumstances  of  the 
right,  would,  in  its  consequence,  lead  to  the  permission  of  force 
in  other  cases,  where  there  existed  no  right  at  all.  The  candi- 
date above  described  has,  no  doubt,  a  Tight  to  success  ;  but  hi? 
right  depends  upon  his  qualifications,  for  instance,  upon  his  com- 
parative virtue,  learning,  &c. ;  there  must  be  somebody  there- 
fore to  compare  them.  The  existence,  degree,  and  respective 
importance  of  these  qualifications,  are  all  indeterminate :  there 
must  be  somebody  therefore  to  determine  them.  To  allow  the 
candidate  to  demand  success  by  force,  is  to  make  him  the  judge 
of  his  own  qualifications.  You  cannot  do  this,  but  you  must  make 
all  other  candidates  the  same ;  which  would  open  a  door  to  de- 
mands \vithout  number,  reason,  or  right.  In  like  manner,  a  poor 
man  has  a  right  to  relief  from  the  rich  ;  but  the  mode,  season,  and 
quantum  of  that  relief,  who  shall  contribute  to  it,  or  how  much, 
are  not  ascertained.  Yet  these  points  must  be  ascertained,  before 
a  claim  to  relief  can  be  prosecuted  by  force.  For  to  allow  the 
poor  to  ascertain  them  for  themselves,  would  be  to  expose  pro- 
perty to  so  many  of  these  claims,  that  it  would  lose  its  value,  or 
cease  indeed  to  be  property.  The  same  observation  holds  of  all 
other  cases  of  imperfect  rights;  not  to  mention  that  in  the  instan- 
ces of  gratitude,  affection,  reverence,  and  the  like,  force  is  ex- 
cluded by  the  very  idea  of  the  duty,  which  must  be  voluntary, 
or  not  at  all. 

Wherever  the  right  is  imperfect,  the  corresponding  obligation 
must  be  so  too.  I  am  obliged  to  prefer  the  best  candidate,  to  re- 
lieve the  poor,  be  grateful  to  my  benefactors,  take  care  of  my 
children,  and  reverence  my  parents ;  but  in  all  these  cases,  my 
obligation,  like  their  right,  is  imperfect. 

I  call* these  obligations  "imperfect,"  in  conformity  to  the  es- 
tablished language  of  writers  upon  the  subject.  The  term,  how- 
ever, seems  ill  chosen  on  this  account,  that  it  leads  many  to  im- 
agine, that  there  is  less  guilt  in  the  violation  of  an  imperfect  ob- 
ligation than  of  a  perfect  one.  Which  is  a  groundless  notion. 
For  an  obligation  being  perfect  or  imperfect,  determines  only 
whether  violence  may  or  may  not  be  employed  to  enforce  it ;  and 
determines  nothing  else.  The  degree  of  guilt  incurred  by  viola- 
ting the  obligation  is  a  different  thing,  and  is  determined  by  cir- 
cumstances altogether  independent  of  this  distinction.  A  man 
who  by  a  partial,  prejudice,  or  corrupt  vote,  disappoints  a  wor 


THE    GENERAL    RIGHTS   OF    MANKIND.  61 

U»y  candidate  of  a  station  in  life,  upon  which  his  hopes,  possibly, 
or  livelihood  depend,  and  thereby  discourages  merit  and  emu- 
lation in  others,  incurs,  I  am  persuaded,  a  much  greater  crime 
than  if  he  had  filched  a  book  out  of  a  library,  or  picked  a  pocket 
of  a  handkerchief,  though  in  the  one  case  he  violates  only  an  im- 
perfect right,  in  the  other  a  perfect  one. 

As  positive  precepts  are  often  indeterminate  in  their  extent, 
and  as  the  indeterminateness  of  an  obligation  is  that  which  makes 
it  imperfect,  it  comes  to  pass,  that  positive  precepts  commonly 
produce  an  imperfect  obligation. 

Negative  precepts  or  prohibitions,  being  generally  precise,  con- 
stitute accordingly  a  perfect  obligation. 

The  fifth  commandment  is  positive,  and  the  duty  which  results 
from  it  is  imperfect. 

The  sixth  commandment  is  negative,  and  imposes  a  perfect  ob- 
ligation. 

Religion  and  virtue  find  their  principal  exercise  amongst  the 
imperfect  obligations,  the  laws  of  civil  society  taking  pretty  good 
'"arc  of  the  rest. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  GENERAL  RIGHTS  OF  MANKIND. 

Bv  the  General  Rights  of  Mankind,  I  mean  the  rights  which 
belong  to  the  species  collectively,  the  original  stock,  as  I  may  say. 
which  they  have  since  distributed  among  themselves. 

These  are, 

I.  A  right  to  the  fruits  or  vegetable  produce  of  the  earth. 
The  insensible  parts  of  the  creation  are  incapable  of  injury ; 

and  it  is  nugatory  to  inquire  into  the  right,  where  the  use  can  be 
attended  with  no  injury.  But  it  may  be  worth  observing,  for  the 
sake  of  an  inference  which  will  appear  below,  that,  as  God  has 
created  us  with  a  want  and  desire  of  food,  and  provided  things 
suited  by  their  nature  to  sustain  and  satisfy  us,  we  may"  fair- 
ly presume,  that  he  intended  we  should  apply  them-  to  that  pur- 
pose. 

II.  A  right  to  the  flesh  of  animals. 

This  is  a  very  different  claim  from  the  former.     Some  excuse 
seems  necessary  for  the  pain  and  loss  which  we  occasion  to  brutes, 
by  restraining1  them  of  their  liberty,  mutilating  their  bodies,  and 
6* 


62  THE   GENERAL   RIGHTS  OF   MANKIND. 

at  last  putting  an  end  to  their  lives,  which  we  suppose  to  be  their 
all,  for  our  pleasure  or  conveniency. 

The  reasons  alleged  in  vindication  of  this  practice,  are  the 
following :  that  the  several  species  of  brutes  being  created  tu 
prey  one  upon  another,  affords  a  kind  of  analogy  to  prove  that 
the  human  species  were  intended  to  feed  upon  them  ;  that,  if  lei 
alone,  they  would  overrun  the  earth  and  exclude  mankind  from 
the  occupation  of  it ;  that  they  are  requited  for  what  they  suffer 
at  our  hands,  by  our  care  and  protection. 

Upon  which  reasons  I  would  observe,  that  the  analogy  contend- 
ed for  is  extremely  lame  ;  since  brutes  have  no  power  to  support 
life  by  any  other  means,  and  since  we  have;  for  the  whole  human 
.species  might  subsist  entirely  upon  fruit,  pulse,  herbs,  and  roots, 
as  many  tribes  of  Hindoos  actually  do.  The  two  other  reasons, 
may  be  valid  reasons,  as  far  as  they  go  ;  for,  no  doubt,  if  man  had 
been  supported  entirely  by  vegetable  food,  a  great  part  of  those 
-animals  which  die  to  furnish  his  table,  would  never  have  lived ; 
but  they  by  no  means  justify  our  right  over  the  lives  of  brutes  to  the 
extent  in  which  we  exercise.it.  What  danger  is  there,  for  in- 
stance, of  fish  interfering  with  us,  in  the  use  of  their  element  • 
or  what  do  wexiontribute  to  Iheir  support  or  preservation? 

It  seems  to  me,  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  defend  this  right  by 
any  arguments  which  the  light  and  order  of  nature  afford ;  and 
that  we  are  beholden  for  it  to. the  permission  recorded  in  Scrip- 
ture, Gen.  ix.  1,  2,  3 :  "  And  God  blessed  Noah  and  his  sons,  and 
"  said  unto  them,  Be  fruitful  and  multiply,  and  replenish  the 
«  earth  :  and  the  fear  of  you,  and  the  dread  of  you,  shall  be  upon 
"  every  beast  of  the  earth,  and  upon  every  fowl  of  the  air,  and 
«{ upon  all  that  moveth  upon  the  earth,  and  upon  all  the  fishes  ot 
"  the  sea ;   into  your  hand  are  they  delivered :   Every  moving 
"lhingshall.be  meat  for  you;  even  as  the  greeii  herb,  have  I 
"given  you  all  things."     To  Adam  and  his  posterity  had  been 
granted,  at  the  creation,  "  every  green  herb  for  meat,"  and  noth- 
ing more.     In  the  last  clause  of  the  passage  now  produced,  the 
old.gr.ant  is  recited,  and  extended  to  the  flesh  of  animals-;  "  even 
"as  the  green  herb,  have  I  given  you  all  things."     But  this  was 
not  till  after  the  flood  ;  the  inhabitants  of  the  antediluvian  world 
had  there  fore  no  such  permission,  that  we  know  of.     Whether 
they  actually  refrained  from  the   flesh   of  animals,  is  another 
question.     Abel,  we  read,  was  a  keeper  of  sheep ;  and  for  what 
purpose  he  kept  them,  but  for  food,  is  difficult  to  say,  (unless  ir 
were  for  sacrifices : )  Might  not,  however,  some  of  the  stricter 


THE    GENERAL    RIGHTS   OP    MANKIND.  63 

sects  among  the  antediluvians  be  scrupulous  as  to  this  point?  and  " 
might  not  Noah  and  his  family  be  of  this  description  ?  for  it  is  not 
-probable  that  God  would  publish  a  permission,  to  authorize  a 
practice  which  had  never  been  disputed. 

Wanton,  and,  what  is  worse,  studied  cruelty  to  brutes,  is  cer- 
tainly wrong-,  as  coming1  within  none  of  these  reasons. 

From  reason,  then,  or  revelation,  or  from  both  together,  it  ap- 
pears to  be  God  Almighty's  intention,  that  the  productions  of  the 
earth  should  be  applied  to  the  sustentation  of  human  life.  Con- 
sequently all  waste  and  misapplication  of  these  productions  is  con- 
trary to  the  divine  intention  and  will;  and  therefore  wrong  for 
the  same  reason  that  any  other  crime  is  so.  Such  as  what  is  re- 
lated of  William  the  Conqueror,  the  converting  of  twenty  manors 
into  a  forest  for  hunting,  or,  what  is  not  much  better,  suffering 
them  to  continue  in  that  state ;  or  the  letting  of  large  tracts  of  land 
lie  barren,  because  the  owner  cannot  cultivate  them,  nor  will  part 
with  them  to  those  who  can ;  or  destroying,  or  suffering  to  perish, 
great  part  .of  an  article  of  human  provision,  in  order  to  enhance 
the  price  of  the  remainder;  (which  is  said  to  have  been,  till  late- 
ly, the^case  with  fish  caught  upon  the  English  coast;)  or  dimin- 
ishing the  breed  of  animals,  by  a  wanton  or  improvident  con- 
sumption of  the  young,  as  of  the  spawn  of  the  shell-fish,  or  the 
fry  of  salmon,  by  the  use  of  unlawful  nets,  or  at  improper  sea- 
sons :  to  this  head  may  also  be  referred,  what  is  the  same  evil  hi 
a  smaller  way,  the  expending  of  human  food  on  superfluous  dogs 
or  horses;  and,  lastly,  the  reducing  of  the  quantity,  in  order  to  al- 
ter the  quality,  and  to  alter  it  generally  for  the  worse ;  as  the  dis- 
tillation of  spirits  from  bread  corn,  the  boiling  down  of  solid  meal 
for  sauces,  essences,  &c-  . 

This  seems  to  be  the  lesson  which  our  Saviour,  after  his  manner, 
inculcates,  when  he  bids  his  disciples  "gather  up  the  fragments. 
"  that  nothing  be  lost."  And  it  opens  indeed  a  new  field  of  du- 
ly. Schemes  of  wealth  or  profit  prompt  the  active  part  of  man- 
kind to  cast  about,  how  they  may  convert  their  property  to  the 
most  advantage ;  and  their  own  advantage,  and  that  of  the  public, 
I'ommohly  concur.  But  it  has  not  as  yet  entered  into  the  minds 
of  mankind  to  reflect,  that  it  is  a  duty  to  add  what  we  can  to  the 
common  stock  of  provision,  by  extracting  out  of  our  estates  the 
most  they  will  yield ;  or  that  it  is  any  sin  to  neglect  this. 

From  the  same  intention  of  God  Almighty,  we  also  deduce  an 
other  conclusion,  namely,  "  that  nothing-  ought  to  be  made  exclu- 
••  sive  property  which  can  be  conveniently  enjoyed  in  common,' 


64  THE    GENERAL   RIGHTS   OF  MANKIND, 

It  is  the  general  intention  of  God  Almighty,  that  the  product 
of  the  earth  be  applied  to  the  use  of  man.  This  appears  from 
the  constitution  of  nature,  or,  if  you  will,  from  his  express  decla- 
ration ;  and  this  is  all  that  appears  hitherto.  Under  this  gener- 
al donation,  one  man  has  the  same  right  as  another.  You  pluck 
an  apple  from  a  tree,  or  take  a  lamb  out  of  a  flock,  for  your  im- 
mediate use  and  nourishment,  and  I  do  the  same ;  and  we  both 
plead  for  what  we  do,  the  general  intention  of  the  Supreme  Pro- 
prietor. So  far  all  is  right;  but  you  cannot  claim  the  whole  tree, 
or  the  whole  flock,  and  exclude  me  from  any  share  of  them,  ami 
plead  this  general  intention  for  what  you  do.  The  plea  will  not 
serve  you  ;  you  must  show  something  farther.  You  must  show, 
by  probable  arguments  at  least,  that  it  is  God's  intention  thai 
these  things  should  be  parcelled  out  to  individuals ;  and  that  the 
established  distribution,  under  which  you  claim,  should  be  upheld. 
Show  me  this,  and  I  am  satisfied,  But  until  this  be  shown,  the 
g-eneral  intention,  which  has  been  made  appear,  and  which  is  all 
that  does  appear,  must  prevail ;  and,  under  that,  my  title  is  as 
good  as  yours.  Now,  there  is  no  argument  to  induce  such  a  pre- 
sumption, but  one,  that  the  thing  cannot  be  enjoyed  at  all,  or  en- 
joyed with  the  same,  or  nearly  the  same  advantage,  while  it  con- 
tinues in  common,  as  when  appropriated.  This  is  true  where 
there  is  not  enough  for  all,  or  where  the  article  in  question  re- 
quires care  or  labour  in  the  production  or  preservation ;  but 
where  no  such  reason  obtains,  and  the  thing  is  in  its  nature  ca- 
pable of  being  enjoyed  by  as  many  as  will,  it  seems  an  arbitrary 
usurpation  upon  the  rights  of  mankind,  to  confine  the  use  of  it 
to  any. 

If  a  medicinal  spring  were  discovered  in  a  piece  of  ground 
which  was  private  property,  copious  enough  for  every  purpose  it 
rould  be  applied  to,  I. would  award  a  compensation  to  the  owner 
of  the  field,  and  a  liberal  profit  to  the  author  of  the  discovery,  es- 
pecially if  lie  had  bestowed  pains  or  expense  upon  the  search ; 
but  I  question  whether 'any  human  laws  would  be  justified,  or 
would  justify  the  owner,  in  prohibiting  mankind  from  the  use  of 
the  water,  or  setting  such  a  price  upon  it,  as  would  almost  amount 
to  a  prohibition. 

If  there  be  fisheries  which  are  inexhaustible  ;  as  for  aught  1 
know,  the  cod-fishery  upon  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland,  and  the 
herring-fishery  in  the  British  seas  are;  then  all  those  conven- 
tions by  which  one  or  two  nations-  claim  to  themselves,  and 
guarantee  to  each  otber,  the  .exclusive  enjoyment  of  these  fish 


THE    GENERAL   RIGHTS   OF   MANKIND.  65 

eries,  are  so  many  encroachments  upon  the  general  rights  of 
mankind. 

Upon  the  same  principle  may  be  determined  a  question,  which 
makes  a  great  figure  in  books  of  natural  law,  utrum  mare  sit  li- 
berum  ?  that  is,  as  I  understand  it,  whether  the  exclusive  right 
of  navigating  particular  seas,  or  a  control  over  the  navigation  of. 
these  seas,  can  be  claimed,  consistently  with  the  law  of  nature, 
by  any  nation  ?— What  is  necessary  for  each  nation's  safety  we 
allow ;  as  their  own  bays,  creeks,  and  harbours,  the  sea  contigu- 
ous to,  that  is,  within  cannon  shot,  or  three  leagues  of  their  coast : 
and  upon  the  same  principle  of  safety  (if  upon  any  principle) 
must  be  defended  the  claim  of  the  Venetian  State  to  the  Adriatic, 
of  Denmark  to  the  Baltic,  of  Great  Britain  to  the  seas  which  in 
vest  the  island.  But,  when  Spain  asserts  a  right  to  the  Pacific 
Ocean,  or  Portugal  to  the  Indian  Seas,  or  when  any  nation  ex- 
tends its  pretensions  much  beyond  the  limits  of  its  own  territo- 
ries, they  erect  a  claim  which  interferes  with  the  benevolent  de- 
signs of  Providence,  and  which  no  human  authorit)'  can  justify. 

III.  Another  right,  which  may  be  called  a  general  right,  as  it 
is  incidental  to  every  man  who  is  in  a  situation  to  claim  it,  is  the 
right  of  extreme  necessity ;  by  which  is  meant,  a  right  to  use  or 
destroy  another's  property,  when  it  is  necessary  for  our  own  pre- 
servation to  do  so ;  as  a  right  to  take,  without  or  against  the  own- 
er's leave,  the  first  food,  clothes,  or  shelter  we  meet  with,  when 
we  are  in  danger  of  perishing  through  want  of  them  :  a  right 
to  throw  goods  overboard,  to  save  the  ship ;  or  to  pull  down  a 
house,  in  order  to  stop  the  progress  of  a  fire ;  and  a  few  other 
instances  of  the  same  kind.  Of  which  right  the  foundation  seems 
to  be  this,  that  when  property  was  first  instituted,  the  institution 
was  not  intended  to  operate  to  the  destruction  of  any ;  therefore, 
when  such  consequences  would  follow,  all  regard  to  it  is  superse- 
ded. Or  rather,  perhaps,  these  are  the  few  cases,  where  the  par- 
ticular consequence  exceeds  the  general  consequence  ;  where 
the  mischief  resulting  from  the  violation  of  the  general  rule,  is 
overbalanced  by  the  immediate  advantage. 

Restitution  however  is  due,  when  in  our  power ;  because  the 
laws  of  property  are  to  be  adhered  to,  so  far  as  consists  with  safe- 
ty ;  and  because  restitution,  which  is  one  of  those  laws,  supposes 
the  danger  to  be  over.  But  what  is  to  be  restored  ?  Not  the  full 
value  of  the  property  destroyed,  but  what  it  was  worth  at  the 
time  of  destroying  it,  which,  considering  the  danger  it  was  in  01 

perishing,  might  be  very  little. 


BOOK  III. 

RELATIVE  DUTIES, 


PART   I. 

OF  RELATIVE  DUTIES  WHICH  ARK 
DETERMINATE. 


CHAPTER  Z. 

OF   PROPERTY. 

IF  you  should  see  a  flock  of  pigeons  in  a  field  of  corn;  and  it 
(instead  of  each  picking  where  and  what  it  liked,  taking  just  as 
much  as  it  wanted,  and  no  more)  you  .should  see  ninety-nine  of 
them  gathering-  all  they  got  into  a  heap ;  reserving  nothing  for 
themselves  but  the  chaff  and  the  refuse ;  keeping  this  heap  for 
one,  and  that  the  weakest  perhaps,  and  worst  pigeon  of  the  flock : 
sitting  round  and  looking  on  all  the  winter,  whilst  this  one  was 
devouring,  throwing  about,  and  wasting  it ;  and  if  a  pigeon,  more 
hardy  or  hungry  than  the  rest,  touched  a  grain  of  the  hoard,  all 
the  others  instantly  flying  upon  it,  and  tearing  it  to  pieces :  If  you 
should  see  this,  you  would  see  nothing  more  than  what  is  every 
day  practised  and  established  among  men.  Among  men,  you  ser 
the  ninety  and  nine  toiling  and  scraping  together  a  heap  of  super- 
fluities for  one ;  getting  nothing  for  themselves  all  the  while,  but 
a  little  of  the  coarsest  of  the  provision  which  their  labour  pro- 
duces (and  this  one,  too,  oftentimes  the  feeblest  and  worst  of  the 
whole  set — a  child,  a  woman,  a  mad-man,  or  a  fool)  looking  qui- 
etly on,  while  they  see  the  fruits  of  all  their  labour  spent  or  spoil- 
ed ;  and  if  one  of  them  take  or  touch  a  particle  of  it,  the  others 
/om^against  him,  and  hang  him  for  the  theft. 


OF    PROPERTY.  tU 

CHAPTER  H. 

THE  USE  OF  THE  INSTITUTION  OF  PROPERTY. 

THERE  must  be  som'e  very  important  .advantages  to  account  for 
;iu  institution,  which,  in  one  vie\v  of  it,  is  so  paradoxical  and  un- 
natural. 

The  principal  of  these  advantages  are  the  following  :• — 

I.  It  increases  the  produce  of  the  earth. 

The  earth,  in  climates  like  ours,  produces  little  without  culti- 
vation ;  and  none  would  be*Found  willing  to  cultivate  the  ground, 
if  others  were  to  be  admitted  to  an  equal  share  of  the  produce. 
The  same  is  true  of  the  care  of  flocks  and  herds  of  tame  aninials 

Crabs  and  acorns',  red  deer,  rabbits,  game,  and  fish,  are  all  we 
should  have  to  subsist  upon,  if  we  trusted  to  the  spontaneous  pro- 
ductions of  this  cpuntry ;  and  it  fares  not  much  better  with  other 
countries.  A  nation  of  North- American  savages,  consisting  of 
two  or  three  hundred,  will  occupy,  and  be  half-starved  upon  a 
Iract  of  land,  which  in  Europe,  and  with  European  management 
would  be  sufficient  for  the  maintenance  of  as  many  thousands. 

In  some  fertile  soils,  with  great  abundance  of  fish  upon  their 
coasts,  and  in  regions  where  clothes  are  unnecessary,  a  consider- 
able degree  of  population  may  subsist  without  property  in  land, 
which  is  the  case  in  the  islands  of  Otaheite  ;  but  in  less  favoured 
filiations,  as  in  the  country  of  New  Zealand,  though  this  sor'. 
of  property  obtain  in  small  dogrce,  the  inhabitants,  for  want  of  a 
more  secure  and  regular  establishment  of  it,  are  driven  oftentimes 
iiy  the  scarcity  of  provision  to  devour  one  another. 

II.  It  preserves  the  produce  of  the  earth  to  maturity. 

We  may  judge  what  would.be  the  eflects  of  a  community  ol 
i-ight  to  the  productions  of  the  earth,  from  the  trifling  specimen:- 
which  we  see  of  it  at  present.  A  cherry-tree  in  a  hedge-row, 
nuts  in  a  wood,  the  grass  of  an  unstinted  pasture,  are  seldom  ol 
much  advantage  to  any  body,  because  people  do  not  wait  for  the 
proper  season  of  reaping  them.  C'orn,  if  any  were  sown,  would 
never  ripen ;  lambs  and  calves  would  never  grow  up  to  sheep 
and  cows,  because  the  first  person' that  met  with  them  would  re- 
flect, that  he  had  better  take  them  as  they  arc,  than  leave  them 
for  another. 

III.  It  prevents  contests. ' 

War  and  waste,   tumult  and  confusion,  must  be  TinavoidaUr 


68  THE    BISTORT    OF   PROPERTY. 

and  eternal,  where  there  is  not  enough*  for  all,  and  where  there 
are  no  rules  to  adjust  the  division. 

IV.  It  improves  the  conveniency  of  living. 

This  it  does  two  ways.  It  enables  mankind  to  divide  them- 
selves into  distinct  professions ;  which  is  impossible,  tfnless  a  man 
can  exchange  the  productions  of  his  own  art  for  what  he  wants 
from  others  ;  and  exchange  implies  property.  Much  of  the  ad- 
vantage of  civilized  over  savage  life,  depends  upon  this.  When 
a  man  is  from  necessity,'  his  own  tailor,  tent-maker,  carpenter, 
cook,  huntsman,  and  fisherman,  it  is  not  probable  that  he  will  be 
expert  at  any  of  his  callings.  Hence  the  rude  habitations,  fur- 
niture, clothing  and  implements  of  savages,  and  the  tedious  length 
of  time  which  all  their  operations  require. 

It  likewise  encourages  those  acts  by  which  the  accommoda- 
tions of  human  life  arc  supplied,  by  appropriating  to  the  artist  the 
benefit  of  his  discoveries,  and  improvements ;  without  which  ap- 
propriation, ingenuity  will  never  be  exerted  with  effect. 

Upon  these  several  acc.ounts  we  may  venture,  with  a  few  ex- 
ceptions, to  pronounce,  that  even  the  poorest  and  the  worst  pro- 
vided, in  countries  where  property,  and  the  consequences  of  pro- 
perty prevail,  are  in  a  better  situation  with  respect  to  food,  rai- 
ment, houses,  and  what  are  called  the  necessaries  of  life,  than 
any  are  in  places  where  most  things  remain  in  common. 

The  balance,  therefore,  upon  the  whole,  must  preponderate  in 
favour  of  property  with  a  great  excess. 

Inequality  of  property,  in  the  degree  in  which  it  exists  in  most 
countries  of  Europe,  abstractedly  considered,  is  an  evil ;  but  it  is 
an  evil  which  flows  from  those  rules  concerning  the  acquisition 
and  disposal  of  property  by  which  men  are  incited  to  industry, 
and  by  which  the  object  of  their  industry  is  rendered  secure  and 
valuable.  If  there  be  any  great  inequality  unconnected  with 
this  origin,  it  ought  to  be  corrected. 


CHAPTER  IXZ. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  PROPERTY. 

THE  first  objects  of  property  were  the  fruits  a  man  plucked, 
and  the  wild  animals  he  caught ;  next  to  these,  the  tents  or  houses 
"which  he  built,  the  tools  he  made  use  of  to  catch  or  prepare  his 
food ;  and  afterwards  weapons  of  war  and  offence.  Many  of  thr 


THE    HISTORY   OF    PROPERTY.  69 

savage  tribes  in  North- America  have  advanced  no  further  thac 
this  yet ;  for  they  are  said  to  gather  their  harvest,  and  return  the 
produce  of  their  market  with  foreigners  into  the  common  hoard 
or  treasury  of  the  tribe.  Flocks  and  herds  of  tame  animals  soon 
became  property  :  Abel,  the  second  from  Adam,  was  a  keeper  of 
sheep ;  sheep  and  oxen,  camels  and  asses,  composed  the  wealth  of 
the  Jewish  patriarchs;  as  they  do  still  of  the  modern  Arabs.  As 
the  world  was  first  peopled  in  the  East,  where  there  existed  a  great 
scarcity  of  water,  wells  probably  were  next  made  property;  as 
we  •  learn  from  the  frequent  and  serious  mention  of  them  in  the 
Old  Testament,  the  contentions  and  treaties  about  them,*  and 
from  its  being  recorded  among  the  mo<t  memorable  achievements 
of  very  eminent  men  that  they  dug-  or  discovered  a  well.  Land, 
which  is  now  so  important  a  part  of  property,  which  alone  our 
laws  call  real  property;  and  regard  upon  all  occasions  with  such 
peculiar  attention,  was  probably  not  made  property-  in  any  country 
till  long  after  the  institution  of  many  other  species  of  property, 
that  is,  till  the  country  became  populous,  and  tillage  began  to  be 
thought  of.  The  first  partition  of  an  estate  which  we  read  of, 
was  that  which  took  place  between  Abram  and  Lot,  and  was  one 
of  the  simplest  imaginable  :  "  If  thou  wilt  take  the  left  hand,  then 
•;  I  will  go  to  the  right ;  or  if  thou  depart  to  the  right  hand  then  I 
:!  will  go  to  the  left."  There  are  no  traces  of  property  in  land  in 
Caesar's  account  of  Britain  ;  little  of  it  in  the  history  of  the  Jewish 
patriarchs  ;  none  of  it  found  amongst  the  nations  of  North- Ame» 
rica ;  the  Scythians  are  expressly  said  to  have  appropriated  their 
catfle  and  houses,  but  to  have  left  their  land  in  common. 

Property  in  moveables  continued  at  first  no  longer  than  the  oc- 
cupation ;  that  is,  so  long  as  a  man's  family  continued  in  possession 
of  a  cave,  or  his  flocks  depastured  upon  a  neighbouring  hill,  no  one 
attempted,  or  thought  he  had  a  right,  to  disturb  or  drive  them  out; 
but  when  the  man  quitted  his  cave,  or  changed  his  pasture,  the 
first  who  found  them  unoccupied,  entered  upon  them  by  the  same 
title  as  his  predecessor's,  and  made  way  in  his  turn  for  anyone  that 
Happened  to  succeed  him.  All  more  permanent  property  in  land 
was  probably  posterior  to  civil  government  and  to  laws,  and  there* 
fore  settled  by  these,  or  according  to  the  will  of  the  reigning- 
.•hief. 

•  Genesis,  .sxi.  25.  ssvi.  16] 


70  I'ROPERTT    IN 


CHAPTER  XV. 

IN  WHAT  THE  RIGHT  OF  PROPERTY  IS  FOUNDED. 

WE  now  speak  of  Property  in  Land  ;  and  there  is  a  difficulty 
in  explaining  the  origin  of  this  property  consistently  with  the  law 
of  nature  ;  for  the  land  was  once,  no  doubt,  common,  and  the 
question  is,  how  any  particular  part  of  it  could  justly  be  taken 
out  of  the  common,  and  so  appropriated  to  the  first  owner,  as  to 
give  him  a  better  rightto.it  than  others,  and,  what  is  more,  a 
right  to  exclude  all  others  from  it. 

Moralists  have  given  many  different  accounts  of  .this  matter; 
which  diversity  alone,  perhaps,  is  a  proof  that  none  of  them  arc 
satisfactory. 

One  tells  us  that  mankind,  when  they  suffered  a  particular  per- 
son to  occupy  a  piece  of.  ground,  by  tacit-  cortseat  relinquished 
their  right  to  it;  and,  as  .the  piece  of  ground  "belonged  to  mankind 
collectively,  and  mankind  thus  gave  up  their  right  to  the  first 
peaceable  occupier,  it  thenceforward  became  his  property,  and  no 
person  afterwards  had  a  right  to  molest  him  in  it. 

The  objection  to  this  account  is,  that  consent  can  never  be 
presumed  from  silence,  where  the  person  whose  consent  is  re- 
quired knows  nothing  about  the  matter,  which  must  have  been 
the  case  with  all  mankind,  except  the  neighbourhood  of  the  place 
where  the  appropriation  was  made.  And  to  suppose  that  the  piece 
of  ground  previously  belonged  to  the  neighbourhood,  and  that  they 
had  a  just  power  of  conferring  a  right  to  it  upon  whom  they 
pleased,  is  to  suppose  the  question  resolved,  and  a  partition  t)f 
land  to  have  already  taken  place. 

Another  says,  that  each  man's  limbs  and  labour  are  -his  own 
exclusively  ;  that,  by  occupying  a  piece  of  ground,  a  man  insep- 
arably mixes  his  labour  with.it;  by  which  means  the  piece  of 
ground  becomes  thenceforward  his  own,  as  you  cannot  take  if 
from  him,  without  depriving  him  at  the  same  time  of  something 
which  is  indisputably  his. 

This  is  Mr.  Locke's  solution;  and  seems  indeed  a  fair  reason, 
where  the  value  of  the  labour  bears  a  considerable  proportion  to 
the  value  of  the  thing  ;  or  where  the  thing  derives  its  chief  use 
and  value  from  the  labour.  Thus,  game  and  fish,  though  they  be 
common,  whilst  at  large  in  the  woods  or  water,  instantly  bc- 
t->me  the  property  of  the  person  that  catches  them  ;  because  an 
caught,  is  much  more  valuable  than  when  at  lib 


PROPERTY   IN   LAND.  71 

erly  ;  and  this  increase  of  value,  which  is  inseparable  from,  and 
makes  a  great  part  of  the  whole  value,  is  strictly  the  property  of 
the  fowler,  being  the  produce  of  his  personal  labour.  For  the  * 
same  reason,  wood  or  iron,  manufactured  into  utensils,  becomes 
the  propel^  of  the  manufacturer;  because  the  value  of  the  work- 
manship Tar  exceeds  that  of  the  materials.  And  upon  a  similar 
principle,  a  parcel  of  unappropriated  ground,  which  a  man  should 
pare,  burn,  plough,  barrow  and  sow,  for  the  production  of  corn, 
would  justly  enough  be  thereby  made  his  own.  But  this  will 
hardly  hold,  in  the  manner  it  has  been  applied,  of  taking-  a  cere- 
monious possession  of  a  tract  of  land,  as  navigators  do  of  new- 
discovered  islands,  by  erecting  a  standard,  engraving  an  in- 
scription, or  publishing  a  proclamation  to  the  birds  and  beasts ;  or 
of  turning'  your  cattle  into  a  piece  of  ground,  setting  up  a  land- 
mark, digging  a  ditch,  or  planting  a  hedge  round  it.  Nor  will 
even  the  'clearing,  manuring,  and  ploughing  of  a  field,  give  the 
first  occupier  a  right  to  it  in  perpetuity,  and  after  this  cultivation, 
and,  all  effects  of  it  are  ceased. 

Another,  and  in  my  opinion  a  better  account  of  the  first  rights 
of  ownership,  is  the  following:  that  as  God  has  provided  these 
things  for  the  use'  of  all,  he  has  of  consequence  given  each  leave 
to  take  of  them  what  he  wants :  by  virtue  therefore  of  this  leave, 
a  man  may  'appropriate,  what  he  wants  .to  his  own  use,  without 
asking  or  waiting  for  the  consent  of  others  ;  in  like  manner  as, 
when  an  entertainment  is  provided  for  the  freeholders  o'f  a  coun- 
ty, each  freeholder  goes,  and  eats  and  drinks  what  he  wants  or 
chooses,  without  having  or  waiting  for  the  consent  of  the  other 
guests. 

But  then  this  reason  justifies  property,  as  far  as  necessaries'on- 
]y,  or  at  the  most,  as  far  as  a  competent  provision  for  our  natu- 
ral exigencies.  For,  in  the  entertainment  we  speak  of,  (allow- 
ing the  comparison  to  hold  in  allpoints)  although  every  particu- 
lar freeholder  may  sit  down  and  eat  till  he  be  satisfied,  without 
any  other  leave  than  that  of  the  master  of  the  feast,  or  any  other 
proof  of  this  leave,  than  the  general  invitation,  or  the  manifest 
design  with  which  the  entertainmept  is  provided ;  }ret  you  would 
hardly  permit  any  one  to  fill  his  pockets  .or  his  walhet,  or  to  car- 
ry away  with  him-*  quantity  of  provision  to  be  hoarded  up,  or 
wasted,  or  given  to  his  dogs,  or  stewed  down  into  sauces,  or  con- 
verted into  articles  of  superfluous  luxury ;  especially  if,  by  so  do- 
ing, he  pinched  the  guests  at  the  lower  end  of  the  table. 

Those  are  the  accounts  that  have  been  given  of  the  matter  b> 


12  PROPERTY   IN   LAND. 

the  best  writers  upon  the  subject,  but,  were  these  accounts  less 
exceptionable  than  they  are,  they  would  none  of  them,  I  fear, 
avail  us  in  vindicating  our  present  claims  of  property  in  land, 
unless  it  were  more  probable  than  it  is,  that  our  estates  were  ac- 
tually acquired  at  first,  in  some  of  the  ways  which  these  accounts 
suppose ;  and  that  a  regular  regard  had  been  paid  to  justice,  in 
every  successive  transmission  of  them  since ;  for,  if  one  link  in 
the  chain  fail,  every  title  posterior  to  it  falls  to  the  ground. 

The  real  foundation  of  our  right  is  THE  LAW  OP  THE  JLAND. 

It  is  the.  intention  of  God,  that  the  produce  of  the  earth  be  ap- 
plied to  the  use  of  man;  this  intention  cannot  be  fulfilled  without 
establishing  property ;  it  is  consistent  therefore  with  his  will  that, 
property  be  established.  The  land  cannot  be  divided  into  sepa- 
rate property  without  leaving  it  to  the  law  of  the  country,  to  regu- 
late that  division ;  it  is  consistent  therefore  with  the  same  wilj. 
that  the  law  should  regulate  the  division  ;  and,  consequently, 
-'consistent  with  the  will  of  God,"  or  "right,"  that  I  should 
possess  that  share  which  these  regulations  assign  me. 

By  whatever  circuitous  train  of  reasoning  you  attempt  to  de- 
rive this  right,  it  must  terminate  at  last  in  the  will  of  God ;  tht 
straightest,  therefore,  and  shortest  way  of  coming  at  this  will,  is 
the  best. 

Hence  it  appears,  that  my  right  to  an  estate  does  not  at  all  de- 
pend upon  the  manner  or  justice  of  the  original  acquisition ;  nor 
upon  the  justice  of  each  subsequent  change  of  possession.  It  is 
not,  for  instance,  the  less,  nor  ought  it  to  be  impeached,  because 
the  estate  was  taken  possession  of  at  first  by  a  family  of  aboriginal 
Britons,  who  happened  to  be  stronger  than  their  neighbours ;  nor 
because  the  British  possessor  was  turned  out  by  a  Roman,  and 
the  Roman  by  a  Saxon  invader  ;  nor  because  it  was  seized,  with- 
out colour  of  right  or  reason,  by  a  follower  of  the  Norman  ad- 
venturer ;  from  whom,  after  many  interruptions,  of  fraud  and  vi- 
olence, it  has  at  length  devolved  to  me.  . 

Nor  does  the  owner's  right  depend  upon  the  expediency  of  the 
law  which  gives  it  to  him.  On  one  side  of  a  book  an  estate  de- 
scends to  the  eldest  son  ;  on  the  other  side,  to  all  the  children 
alike.  The  right  of  the  claimants  under  both  laws  of  inheritance 
is  equal ;  though  the  expediency  of  such  opposite  rules  must  ne- 
cessarily be  different. 

The  principles  we  have  laid  down  upon  this  subject,  apparent- 
ly tend  to  a  conclusion  of  which  a  bad  use  is  apt  to  be  made.  As 
iho  right  of  property  depends  upon  the  law  of  the  land,  it  seems 


PROPERTY   IS   I, AND.  73 

to  follow,  that  a  man  has  a  right  to  keep  and  take  every  thing 
which  the  law  will  allow  him  to  keep  and  take ;  which  in  many 
oases  will  authorize  the  most  manifest  and  flagitious  chicanery. 
If  a  creditor  upon  a  simple  contract  neglect  to  demand  his  debt 
for  six  years,  the  debtor  may  refuse  to  pay  it :  would  it  be  right 
therefore  to  do  so,  where  be  is  conscious  to  the  justice  of  the  debt  <: 
If  a  person  who  is  under  twenty-one  years  of  age  contract  a  bar- 
gain, (other  than  for  necessaries,)  he  may  avoid  it  by  pleading 
his  minority ;  but  would  this  be  a  fair  plea,  where  the  bargain 
was  originally-  just  ? — The  distinction  to  be  taken  in  such  cases  is 
this :  With  the  law*  we  acknowledge,-resides  the  disposal  of  pro- 
perty ;  so  long,  therefore,  as  we  keep  within  the  design  and  in- 
tention of  a  law,  that  law  will  justify  us,  as  well-tnforo  conscien- 
tice,  as  inforo  humano,  whatever  be  the  equity  or  expediency  of 
the  law  itself.  But  when  we  convert  to  one  purpose  a  rule  or  ex- 
pression of  law,  which  is  intended  for  another  .purpose,  then  we 
plead  in  our  justification,  not  the  intention  of  the  law,  but  the 
words ;  that  is,  we  plead  a  dead  letter,  which  can  signify  noth- 
ing; for  words  without  meaning  or  intention,  have  no  force  or  ef- 
fect in  justice  ;  much  less,  words  taken  contrary  to  the  meaning 
and  intention-of  the  speaker  or  writer.  To  apply  this  distinction 
to  the  examples  just  now  proposed  ;  In  order  to  protect  men 
against  antiquated  demands,  from  which  it  is.  not  probable  they 
should  have  preserved  the  evidence  of  their  discharge,  the  law 
prescribes  a  limited  time  to  certain  species  of  private  securities, 
beyond  which  it  will  not  enforce  them,  or  lend  its  assistance  to  the 
recovery  of  the  debt.  If  a  man  be  ignorant  or  dubious  of  the 
justice  of  the  demand  made  upon  him,  he  may  conscientiously 
plead  this  limitation  :  because  he  applies  the  rule  of  law  to  the 
purpose  for  which  it  icas  intended.  But  when  he  refuses  to  paj- 
a  debt,  of  the  reality  of  which  "he  is-conscious,  he  cannot,  as  be- 
fore, plead  the  intention  of  the  statute,  and  the  supreme  authori- 
ty of  law,  unless  he  could  show  that  the  law  intended  to  interpose 
its  supreme  authority  to  acquit  men  of  debts,  of  the  existence 
and  justice  of  which  they  were  themselves  sensible.  Again,  to 
preserve  youth  from  the  practices  and  impositions  to  which  their 
inexperience  exposes  them,  the  law  compels  the  payment  of  no 
debts  incurred  within  a  certain  age>  nor  the  performance  of  an}' 
engagements,  except  for  such  necessaries  as  are  suited  to  their  con- 
dition and  fortunes.  If  a  young  person  therefore  perceive  that 
he  has  been  practised  or  imposed  upon,  he  may  honestly  avail 
•  himself  of  the  privilege,  of  his  nonage,  to  defeat  the  circumven 


?4  PROMISES. 

don.  But,  if  he  shelter  himself  under  this  privilege,  to  avoid  a 
fair  obligation,  or  an  equitable  contract,  he  extends  the  privilege 
to  a  case,  in  which  it  is  not  allowed  by  intention  of  law,  and  in 
which  consequently  it  does  not,  in  natural  justice,  exist. 

As. property  is  the  principal  subject  of  justice,  or  of  "the  de- 
<  terminate  relative  duties,"  we  have  put  down  what  we  had  to 
say  upon  if  in  the  first  place  :  we  now  proceed  to  state  these  du- 
ties in  the  best  order  we  can.-' 


CHAPTER  V. 

PROMISES. 
T.  WHENCE  the  obligation  to  perform  promises  arises, 

II.  In  what  sense  promises  are  to  be  interpreted. 

III.  In  what  cases  promises  are  not  binding. 

I.  From  whence  the  obligation  to  perform  promises  arises. 

They  who  argue  from  innate  moral  principles,  suppose  a  sense 
of  the  obligation  of  promises  to  be  one  of  them;  bujt  without  as- 
suming this,  or  any  thing  else,  without  proof,  the  obligation  to 
perform  promises  may  be  deduced  from  the  necessity  of  such  a 
conduct,  to  the  well-being,  or  the  existence,  indeed,  of  human 
society. 

Men  act. from  expectation.  Expectation  is  in  most  cases  de- 
termined by  the  assurances  and  engagements  which  we  receive 
from  others.  If  no  dependence  could  be  placed  upon  these  as- 
surances, it  would  be  impossible  to  know  what  judgment  to  form 
of  many  future  events,  or  how  to  'regulate  our  conduct  with  re- 
spect to  them.  Confidence  therefore  in  promises,  is  essential  to 
the  intercourse  of  human  life ;  because,  without  it,  the  greatest 
part  of  our  conduct  would  proceed  upon  chance.  But  there 
could  be  no  confidence  in  promises,  if  men  were  not  obliged  to 
perform  them ;  the  obligation  therefore  to  perform  promises,  i.c 
essential,  to  the  same  end,  and  in  the  same  degree* 

Some  may  imagine,  that  if  this  obligation  were  suspended,  a 
general  caution  and  mutilal  distrust  would  ensue,  which  might, 
do  as  well :  but  this  is  imagined,  without  considering  how,  every 
hour  of  our  lives,  we  trust  to,  and  depend  upon  others ;  and  how 
impossible  it  is  to  stir  a  step,  or  what  is  worse,  to  sit  still  a  mo- 
ment, without  such  trust  and  dependance..  I  am  now  writing  at  . 


PROMISES.  73 

uiy  ease,  not  doubting  (or  rather  never  distrusting,  and  therefore 
never  thinking  about  it)  but  that  the  butcher  will  send  in  the 
joint  of  meat  which  I  ordered ;  that  bis  servant  will  bring  it ;  that 
my  cook  will  dress  it ;  that  my  footman  will  serve  it  up  ;  and  that 
I  shall  find  it  upon  tablfe  at  one  o'clock.  Yet  have  I  nothing  for 
all  this  but  the  promise  of  the  butcher,  and  the  implied  promise  of 
his  servant  and  mine.  And  the  same  holds  of  the  most  important 
as  well  as  the  most  familiar  occurrences  of  social  life.  In  the 
one,  the  intervention  of  promises  is  formal,  and  is  seen  and  ac- 
kowledged ;  our  instance,  therefore,  is  intended  to  show  it  in  the 
other,  where  it  is  .not  so  distinctly  observed. 

II.  In  what  sense  promises  are  to  be  interpreted, 

Where  the  terms  of  a  promise  admit  of  more  senses  than  one, 
the  promise  is  to  be  performed  "  in  that  sense  in  which  the 
"promiser  apprehended  at  the  time  that  the  promisee  receiv- 
-edit." 

It  is  not  the  sense  in  which  the  promiser  actually  intended  it 
that  always  governs  the  interpretation  of  an  equivocal  promise  : 
for,  at  that  rate,  you  might  excite  expectations,  which  you  never 
meant,  nor  would  be  obliged- to  satisfy.  Much  less  is  it  the  sense 
in  which  the  promisee  actually  received  the  promise ;  for  accord- 
ing to  that  rule,  you  might  be  drawn  into  engagements  which  you 
never  designed  to  undertake.  It  must  therefore  be  the  sense  (for 
there  is  no  other  remaining)  in  which  the  promiser  believed  that 
ihe  promisee  accepted  his  promise. 

This  will  not  differ  from  the  actual  intention  of  the  promiser. 
where  the  promise  is  given  without  collusion  or  reserve ;  but  we 
put  the  rule  in  the  above  form,  to  exclude  evasion  in  cases  in 
which  the  popular  meaning  of  a  phrase,  and  the  strict  grammati- 
cal signification  of  the  words,  differ;  or  in  general,  wherever  the 
promiser  attempts  to  make  his  escape  througli^some  ambiguity  in 
the  expressions  which  he  used, 

Temures  promised  the  garrison  of  Sebastia,  that,  if  they  would 
surrender,  no  blood  should  be  shed.  The  garrison  surrendered, 
and  Temures  buried  them  all  alive.  -Now  Temures  fulfilled  the 
promise  in  one  sense,  and  in  the  sense  too  in  which  he  intended 
it  at  the  time, -but  not  in  the  sense  in  which  the  garrison  of  Se- 
oastia  actually  received  it,  nor  in  the  sense  in  which  Temures 
himself  knew  that  the  garrison  received  it;  which  last  sense,  ac- 
cording to  our  rule,  was  the  sense  he  was  in  conscience  bound  to 
iiave  performed  it  in. 

From  the  account  we  have  given  of  the  obligation  of  promises.. 


*t  is  evident,  that  this  obligation  depends  upon  the  expectations 
which  we  knowingly  and  voluntarily  excite.  Consequently,  any 
action  or  conduct  towards  another,  which  we  are  sensible  excites 
expectations  in  that  other,  is  as  much  a  promise,  and  creates  as 
strict  an  obligation  as  the  most  express  assurances.  Taking,  for 
instance,  a  relation's  child,  and  educating  him  for  a  liberal  pro- 
fession, or  in  a  manner  suitable  only  for  the  heir  of  a  large  fortune: 
as  much  obliges  us  to  place  him  in  that  profession,  or  to  leave  him 
such  a  fortune,  as  if  we  had  given  him  a  promise  to  do  so  under 
our  hands  and  seals.  In  like  manner,  a  great  man,  who  encour- 
ages an  indigent  retainer,  or  a  minister  of  state,  who  distinguishes 
and  caresses  at  his  levee  one  who  is  in  a  situation  to  be  obliged  by 
his  patronage,  engages  by  such  behaviour,  to  provide  for  him, 
This  is  the  foundation  of  tacit  promises. 

You  may  either  simply  declare  your  present  intention,  or  you 
may  accompany  your  declaration  with  an  engagement  to  abide 
by  it,  which  constitutes  a  complete  promise.  In  the  first  case, 
the  duty  is  satisfied,  if  you  were  sincere ;  that  is,  if  you  enter- 
tained at  the  time  the  intention  you  expressed,  however  soon,  01 
for  whatever  reason,  you  afterwards  change  it.  In  the  latter 
case,  you  have  parted  with  the  liberty  of -changing.  All  this  i? 
plain ;  but  it  must  be  observed,  that  most  of  those  forms  oi" 
speech,  which,  strictly  taken,  amount  to  no  more  than  declara- 
tions of  present  intention,  do  yet,  in  the  usual  way  of  understand- 
ing them,  excite  the  expectation,  and  therefore  carry  with  them 
the  force  of  absolute  prom  ises.  Such  as  "  I  intend  you  this  place. ' ' 
— "  I  design  to  leave  you  this  estate." — "I  purpose  givibg  you 
"my  vote." — "I  mean  to  serve  you."  In  which,  although  the 
•'intention,"  the  "design,"  the  "purpose,"  the  "meaning,"  be 
expressed  in  words  of  the  present  time,  yet  you  cannot  afterwards 
recede  from  them,  without  a  breach  of  good  faith.  If  you  choose 
therefore  to  make  known  your  present  intention,  and  yet  to  re- 
serve to  yourself  the  liberty  of  changing  it,  you  must  guard  you  r 
expressions  by  an  additional  clause,  as  "I  intend  at  present," — 
•'  if  I  do  not  alter" — or  the  like.  And  after  all,  as  there  can  be 
no  reason  for  communicating  your  intention,  but  to  excite  some 
degree  of  expectation  or  other,  a  wanton  change  of  an  intention 
which  is  once  disclosed,  always  disappoints  somebody,  and  is 
always,  for  that  reason,  wrong. 

There  is  in  some  men  an  infirmity  with  regard  to  promises, 
which  often  betrays  them  into  great  distress..  From  the  confu- 
sion, or  hesitation,  or  obscurity,  with  which  they  express  them 


PROMISES.  If 

selves,  especially  when  overawed,  or  taken  by  surprise,  they  some- 
times encourage  expectations,  and  bring  upon  themselves  demands, 
which,  possibly,  they  never  dreamed  of.  This  is  a  want,  not  so 
much'of  integrity,  as  of  presence  of  mind. 

III.  In  what  cases  promises  are  not  binding. 
1.  Promises  are  not  binding,  where  the  performance  is  impos- 
sible. 

But  observe,  that  the  promiser  is  guilty  of  a  fraud,  if  he  be 
privately  aware  of  the  impossibility  at  the  time  of  making  the 
promise.  For,  when  any  one  promises  a  thing,  he  asserts  his  be- 
lief, at  least  of  the  possibility  of  performing  it ;  as  no  one  can 
accept  or  understand  a  promise  under  any  other  supposition.  In- 
stances of  this  sort  are  the  following  :  The  minister  promises  a 
place,  which  he  knows  to  be  engaged,  or  not  at  his  disposal : — A, 
father,  in  settling  marriage  articles,  promises  to  leave  his  daugh- 
ter an  estate  which  he  knows  to  be  entailed  upon  the  heir  male  of 
his  family: — A  merchant  promises  with  his  daughter  a  ship,  or 
share  of  a  ship,  which  he  is  privately  advised  is  lost  at  sea  : — An 
incumbent  promises  to  resign  a  living,  being  well  assured  that  his 
resignation  will  not  be  accepted  by  the  bishop.  The  promiser, 
as  in  these  cases,  with  knowlecge  of  the  impossibility,  is  justly 
answerable  in  an  equivalent ;  but  otherwise  not. 

When  the  promiser  himself  occasions  the  impossibility,  it  is 
neither  more  nor  less  than  a  di-ect  breach  of  the  promise ;  as 
when  a  soldier  maims,  or  a  servant  disables  himself,  to  get  rid  of 
their  engagements. 

2.  Promises  are  not  binding,  where  the  performance  is  un~ 
lawful. 

There  are  two  cases  of  this  ;  one,  where  the  unlawfulness,  is 
known  to  the  parties,  at  the  time  of  making  the  promise ;  as 
where  an  assissin  promises  to  despatch  your  rival  or  your  enemy; 
a  servant  to  betray  his  master ;  a  pimp  to  procure  a  mistress ; 
or  a  friend  to  give  his  assistance  in  a  scheme  of  seduction.  The 
parties  in  these  cases  are  not  obliged  to  perform  what  the  promise 
requires,  because  they  were  under  a  prjor  obligation  to  the  con- 
trary. From  which  prior  obligation  what  is  there  to  discharge 
them  ?  Their  promise — their  own  act  and  deed.  But  an  obliga- 
tion, from  which  a  man  can  discharge  himself  by  his  own  act  and 
deed,  is  no  obligation  at  all.  The  guilt  therefore  of  such  promises 
is  in  the  making,  not  in  the  breaking  them  ;  and  if,  in  the  inter- 
val betwixt  the  promise  and  the  performance,  a  man  so  far  recover 


78  PBOMISES. 

las  reflection,  as  to  repent  of  his  engagements,  lie  ought  certainly 

to  break  through  them. 

The  other  case  is,  where  the  unlawfulness  did  not  exist,  or  was 
not  known,  at  the  time  of  making  the  promise :  as  where  a  mer- 
chant promises  his  correspondent  abroad,  to  send  him  a  ship-load 
of  corn  at  a  time  appointed,  and  before  the  time  arrives,  an  em- 
bargo is  laid  upon  the  exportation  of  corn: — A  woma.n  gives  a 
promise  of  marriage ;  before  the  marriage  she  discovers  that  her 
intended  husband  is  too  near  akin  to  her,  or  has  a  wife  yet  living. 
In  all  such  cases,  where  the  contrary  does  not  appear,  it  must  be 
1  presumed  that  the  parties  supposed  what  they  promised  to  be  law- 
ful, and  that  the  promise  proceeded^ntirely  upon  this  supposition. 
The  lawfulness  therefore  becomes  a  condition  of  the  promise ;  and 
where  the  condition  fails,  the  obligation  ceases.  Of  the  same  na- 
ture was  Herod's  promise* to  his  daughter-in-law,  "that  he  would 
"give  her  whatever  she  asked,  even  to  the  half  of  his  kingdom." 
The  promise  was  not  unlawful  in  the  terms  in  which  Herod  de- 
livered it ;  and  when  it  became  so  by  the  daughter's  choice,  by 
her  demanding  "John  the  Baptist's  head,"  Herod  was  discharged 
from  the  obligation  of  it,  for  the  reason  now  laid  down,  as  well 
as  for  that  given  in  the  last  paragraph. 

This  rule,  "  that  promises  are  void,,  where  the  performance 
"is  unlawful,"  extends  also  to  imperfect  obligations;  for,  the 
reason  of  the  rule  holds  of  all  obligations.  Thus,  if  you  pro- 
mise a  man  a  place  or.  your  vote,  and  he  afterwards  render  him 
self  unfit  to  receive  either,  you  are  absolved  from  the  obliga- 
tion of  your  promise ;  or  if  a  better  candidate  appear,  and  it  be 
a  case  in  which  you  are  bound  by  oath,  or  otherwise,  to  govern 
yourself  by  the  qualification;  the  promise  must  be  broken  through. 

And  here  I  would  recommend  to  young  persons  especially,  a, 
caution,  from  the  neglect  of  which'  many  involve  themselves'in 
embarrassment  and  disgrace ;  and  that  is,  "  never  to  give  a  pro- 
"mise,  which  may  interfere  in  the  event  with  their  duty;"  for, 
if  it  do -so  interfere,  the  duty  must  be  discharged,  though  at  the 
expense  of  their  promise,  .and  not  unusually  of  their  good  name.. 

The  specific  performance  of  promises  is  reckoned  a  perfect 
obligation.  And  many  casuists,  have  lai<l  it  down  in  opposition 
to  what  has  been  "here  asserted,  that  where  a  perfect  and  an  im- 
perfect obligation  clash,  the  perfect  obligation  is  to  be  preferred. 
Vor  which  opinion,  however,  there  seems  to  be  no  reason,  but 
what  arises  from  the  terms  "perfect"  and  "imperfect,"  the  im- 
propriety of  which  has  been  remarked  above.  The  truth  is,  r>( 


PROMISES.  '9 

Iwo  contradictory  obligations,  that  ought  to  prevail  which  is  prior 
in  point  of  time. 

It  is  the  performance  being  unlawful,  and  not  any  unlawful- 
ness in  the  subject  or  motive  of  the  promise,  which  destroys  its 
validity :  therefore  a  bribe,  after  the  vote  is  given  ;  the  wages  oi 
prostitution ;  the  reward  of'  any  crime,  after  the  crime  is  com- 
mitted, ought,  if  promised,  to  be  paid.  For  the  sin  and  mischief, 
by  this  supposition,  are  -over ;  and  will  be  neither  more  nor  less 
for  the  performance  of  the  promise. 

In  like  manner,  a  promise  does  not  lose  its  obligation  merely 
because  it  proceeded  from^n •unlawful  motive'.  A  certain  person, 
in  the  lifetime  of  his  wife,  who  was  then  sick,  paid  his  addresses, 
and  promised  marriage  to  another  woman  ; — the  wife  died ;  and 
the  woman  demanded  performance  of  the  promise.  The  man, 
who,  it  seems,  had  changed  his  mind,  either  felt  or  pretended 
doubts  concerning  the  obligation  of  such  a  promise,  and  referred 
his  case  to  Bishop  Sanderson,  the  most  eminent,  in  this  kind  of 
knowledge,  of  his  time.  Bishop  Sanderson,'  after  writing  a  dis- 
sertation upon  the  question,  adjudged  the  promise  to  be  void.  In 
which,  however,  upon  our  principles,  he 'was  wrong:  for,  how- 
ever criminal  the  affection  might  be,  which  induced  the  promise, 
the  performance,  when  it  was  demanded,  was  lawful ;  which  is 
the  only  lawfulness  required. 

A  promise  cannot  be  deemed  unlawful,  where  it  produces, 
when  performed,  no  effect  beyond  what  would  have  taken  place 
had  the  promise  never  been  made.  And  this  is  the  single  case, 
in  which  the  obligation  of  a  promise  will  justify  a  conduct,  which, 
unless  it  had  been  promised,  would  be  unjust.  A.captive  may 
lawfully  recover  his  liberty,. by  a  promise  of  neutrality;  for  his 
conqueror  takes  nothing  by  the  promise,  which  he  might  not  h'ave 
secured  by  his  death  or  confinement;  and  neutrality  would  be  in- 
nocent in  him,  although  criminal  in  another.  It  is  manifest,  how- 
ever, that  promises  which  come  into  the  place  of  coercion,  can 
extend  no  further  than  to  passive  compliances ;  for  coercion  itself 
could  compel  no  more.  Upon  the  same  principle,  promises  of  se- 
crecy ought  not  to  be  violated,  although  the  public  would  derive 
advantage  from  the  discovery.  Such  promises  contain  no  un- 
lawfulness in  them,  to  destiny  their  obligation ;  for,  as  the  infor- 
mation  would  not  have  been  imparted  upon  any  other  condition, 
the  public  lose  nothing  by  the  promise,  which  they  would  have 
gained  without  it. 


SO  PROMISES. 

3.  Promises  are  not  binding,  where  they  contradict  a  former 
promise. 

Because  the  performance  is  then  unlawful ;  which  resolves  this 
case  into  the  last. 

4.  Promises  are  not  binding  before  acceptance ;  that  is,  before 
notice  given  to  the  promisee ;  for,  where  the  promise  is  benefi- 
cial, if  notice  be  given,  acceptance  may  be  presumed.     Before 
the  promise  be  communicated  to  the  promisee,  it  is  the  same  only 
as  a  resolution  in  the  mind  of  the  promiser,  which  may  be  altered 
at  pleasure.     For  no  expectation  has  been  excited,  therefore 

,  none  can  be  disappointed. 

But  suppose  1  declare  my  intention  to  a  third  person,  who. 
without  any  authority  from  me,  conveys  my  declaration  to  the 
promisee ;  is  that  such  a  notice  as  will  be  binding  upon  me  ?  It 
certainly  is  not ;  for  1  have  not  done  that  which  constitutes  the 
essence  of  a  promise — I  have  not  voluntarily  excited  expectation. 

5.  Promises  are  not  binding,  which  are  released  by  the  pro- 
misee. 

This  is  evident:  but  it  may  be  sometimes  doubted  who  is  the- 
promisee.  If  I  give  a  promise  to  A,  of  a  place  or  vote  for  B  ;  as 
to  a  father  for  his  son ;  to  an  uncle  for  his  nephew  ;  to  a  friend  of 
mine,  for  a  relation  or  friend  of  his ;  then  A  is  the  promisee, 
whose  consent  I  must  obtain,  to  release  me  from  the  engagement. 

If  I  promise  a  place  or  vote  to  B  by  A,  that  is,  if  A  be  a  mes- 
senger to  convey  the  promise,  as  if  I  should  sa}T,  "  You  may  tell  B 
"  that  he  shall  have  this  place,  or  may  depend  upon  my  vote ;"  or 
if  A  be  employed  to  intfo'duce  B's  request,  and  I  answer  in  any 
tertns  which  'amount  to  a  compliance  with  it,  then  B  is  the  pro- 
misee. 

Promises  to  one  person,  for  the  benefit  of  another,  are  not  re- 
leased by  the  death  of  the  promisee;  for  his  death. neither  makes 
the  performance  impi-aoticable,  nor  implies  any  consent  to  re- 
lease the  promiser  from  it. 

6.  Erroneous  promises  arc  not  binding  in  certain  cases;  as, 
1.  Where  the  error  proceeds  from  the  mistake  or  misrepresen- 
tation of  the  promisee. 

Because  a  promise  evidently  supposes  the  truth  of  the  account, 
which  the  promisee  relates  in  order  to  obtain  it.  A  beggar  soli- 
cits your  charity  by  a  story  of  the  most  pitiable  distress;  you 
promise  to  relieve  him,  if  he  will  call  again ; — in  the  interval 
you  discover  his  story  to  be  made  up  of  lies ; — this  discovery, 
no  doubt,  releases  you  from  your  promise.  One  who  wants  your 


PROMISES.  fci 

service,  describes  the  business  or  office  for  which  he  would  engage 
you;— you  promise  to  undertake  it :  when  you  come  to  enter  upon 
it,  you  find  the  profits  less,  the  labour  more,  or  some  material  cir 
cumstance  different  from  the  account  he  gave  you  : — In  such  case 
you  are  not  bound  by  your  promise. 

2.  When  the  promise  is  understood  by  the  promisee  to  proceed 
upon  a  certain  supposition,  or  when  the  promiser  thought  he  so  un- 
derstood it,  and  that  the  supposition  turns  out  to  be  false :  the'n  the 
promise  is  not  binding-. 

This  intricate  rule  will  be  best  explained  by  an  example.  A  fa- 
ther receives  an  account  from  abroad,  of  the  death  of  his  only  son ; 
— soon  after  which,  he  promises  his  fortune  to  his  nephew. — The 
account  turns  out  to  be  false.  The  father,  we  say,  is  released  from 
his  promise ;  not  merely  because  he  never  would  have  made  it,  had 
he  known  the  truth  of  the  case, — for  that  alone  will  not  do  ; — but 
because  the  nephew  also  himself  understood  the  promise  to  proceed 
upon  the  supposition  of  his  cousin's  death ;  or  at  least,  his  uncle 
thought  he  so  understood  it ;  and  could  not  think  otherwise.  The 
promise  proceeded  upon  this  supposition  in  the  promisor's  own  ap- 
prehension, and  as  he  believed,  in  the  apprehension  of  both  parties  • 
and  this  belief  of  his,  is  the  precise  circumstance  which  sets  him 
free.  The  foundation  of  the  rule  is  plainly  this :  a  man  is  bound 
only  to  satisfy  the  expectation  which  he  intended  to  excite ;  what- 
ever condition  therefore  he  intended  to  subject  that  expectation  to, 
becomes  an  essential  condition  of  the  promise. 

Errors,  which  come  not  within  this  description,  do  not  annul  the 
obligation  of  a  promise.  I  promise  a  candidate  my  vote ;  present- 
ly another  candidate  appears,  for  whom  I  certainly  would  have  re- 
served it,  had  I  been  acquainted  with  his  design.  Here  therefore, 
as  before,  my  promise  proceeded  from  an-error;  and  I  never  should 
have  given  such  a  promise,  had  I  been  aware  of  the  truth  of  the 
case,  as  it  has  turned  out. — But  the  promisee  did  not  know  this ; — 
he  did  not  receive  the  promise  subject  to  any  such  condition,' or  as 
proceeding  from  any  such  supposition ; — nor  did  I  at  the  time  im- 
agine he  so  received  it.  This  error,  therefore,  of  mine,  must  fall 
upon  my  own  head,  and  the  promise  be  observed  notwithstanding. 
A.  father  promises  a  certain  fortune  with  his  daughter,  supposing 
himself  to  be  worth  so  much  : — his  circumstances  turn  out,  upon 
examination,  worse  than  he  was  aware  of.  Here  again  the  promise 
was  erroneous,  but  for  the  reason  assigned  in  the  last  case,  will 
nevertheless  be  obligatory. 

The  case  of  erroneous  promises  is  attended  with  some  difficulty; 
for  to  allow  every  mistake,  or  change  of  circumstances,  to  dissolve 
8 


the  obligation  of  a  promise,  would  be  to  allow  a  latitude,  which 
might  evacuate  the  force  of  almost  all  promises  ;  and  on  the  other 
hand,  to  gird  the  obligation  so  tight  as  to  make  no  allowances  for 
manifest  and  fundamental  errors,  would,  in  many  instances,  be  pro- 
ductive of  great  hardships  and  absurdity. 

It  has  long  been  controverted  amongst  moralists,  whether  prom 
ises  be  binding,  which  are  extorted  by  violence  or  fear.  The  obli- 
gation of  all  promises  results,  we  have  seen,  from  the  necessity  or 
the  use  of  that  confidence  which  mankind  repose  in  them.  The 
question,  therefore,  whether  these  promises  are  binding,  will  depend 
upon  this,  whether  mankind,  upon  the  whole,  are  benefitted  by  the 
confidence  placed  in  such  promises  ?  A  higway-man  attacks  you — 
and  being  disappointed  of  his  booty,  threatens  or  prepares  to  mur- 
der you  : — you  promise,  with  many  solemn  asseverations,  that  if  he- 
will  spare  your  life,  he  shall  find  a  purse  of  money  left  for  him,  at  a 
place  appointed ; — upon  the  faith  of  this  promise,  he  forbears  from 
further  violence.  Now,  your  life  was  saved  by  the  confidence  re- 
posed in  a  promise  extorted  by  fear ;  and  the  lives  of  many  others 
may  be  saved  by  the  same.  This  is  a  good  consequence.  On  the 
other  hand,  a  confidence  in  promises  like  these  would  greatly  facili- 
tate the  perpetration  of  robberies :  they  might  be  made  the  instru- 
ments of  almost  unlimited  extortion.  This  is  a  bad  consequence  ; 
and  in  the  question  between  the  importance  of  these  opposite  con- 
sequences, resides  the  doubt  concerning  the  obligation  of  such 
promises. 

There  are  other  cases  which  are  plainer ;  as  where  a  magistrate 
confines  a  disturber  of  the  public  peace  in  gaol,  till  he  promise  to 
behave  better  ;  or  a  prisoner  of  war  promises,  if  set  at  liberty,  to 
return  within  a  certain  time.  These  promises,  say  moralists,  are 
binding,  because  the  violence  or  duress  is  just ;  but  the  truth  is,  be- 
cause there  is  the  same  use  of  confidence  in  these  promises,  as  of 
confidence  in  the  promises  of  a  person  at  perfect  liberty. 

Vows  are  promises  to  God.  The  obligation  cannot  be  made  oul 
upon  the  same  principle  as  that  of  other  promises.  The  violation 
of  them,  nevertheless,  implies  a  want  of  reverence  to  the  Supreme 
Being,  which  is  enough  to  make  it  sinful. 

There  appears  no  command  or  encouragement  in  the  Christian 
Scriptures  to  make  vows,  much  less  any  authority  to  breakthrough 
them  when  they  are  made.  The  few  instances*  of  vows  which  we 
read  of  in  the  New  Testament,  were  religiously  observed. 

The  rules  we  have  laid  down  concerning  promises,  are  applicable 

»Acts.  xviii.  18.  xxi.  23. 


CONTRACTS   OP    SALE.  -     83 

'.o  vows.  Thus  Jcpthah's  vow,  taken  in  the  sense  in  which  that 
transaction  is  commonly  understood,  was  not  binding ;  because  the 
performance,  in  that  contingency,  became  unlawful. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

CONTRACTS. 

A  CONTRACT  is  a  mutual  promise.  The  obligation  therefore  ot 
•jonlracts,  the.sense  in  which  they  are  to  be  interpreted,  and  the  ca- 
ses where  they  are  not  binding,  will  be  the  same  as  of  promises. 

From  the  principle  established  in  the  last  chapter,  "that  the  obli- 
:i  gation  of  promises  is  to  be  measured  by  the  expectatio'n  which 
•:  the  prbmiser  any  how  voluntarily  and  knowingly  excites,"  results 
A  rule,  which  governs  the  construction  'of  all  contracts,  and  is  ca 
pable,  from  the  simplicity  of  it,  of  being  applied  with  great  ease 
and  certainty ;  viz.  That, 

Whatever  is  expected  by  one  side,  and  known  to  be  so  expected  by 
/he  other,  is  to  be  deemed  a  part  or  condition  of  the  'contract. 

The  several  kinds  of  contracts,  and  the  order  in  which  we  pro- 
pose to  consider  them,  may  be  exhibited  at  one  view,  thus : 

fSale. 
Hazard.     • 

Lending  of     j  ^lUmable  Pr°Pert-V' 


Contracts  of-< 


Money. 
f  Service. 
•  j  Commissions. 
Labour.  j  Partnership. 

(  Offices. 


CHAPTER  VXX. 

CONTRACTS  OF  SALE. 

THE  rule  of  justice,  which  wants  most  to  be  inculcated  in  the 
making  of  bargains,  is,  that  the  seller  is  bound  in  conscience  to  dis- 
close the  faults  of  what  he  offers  to  sale.  Amongst  other  methods 
of  proving  this,  one  may  be  the  following : 

I  suppose  it  will  be  allowed,  that  to  advance  a  direct  falsehood  in 
recommendation  of  our  wares,  by  ascribing  to  them  some  quality 
*vhich  we  know  that  they  have  not,  is  dishonest.  Now  compare 


--*  CONTRACTS    OF   SALE. 

with  this  the  designed  concealment  of  some  fault  which  we  know 
that  they  have.  The  motives  and  the  effects  of  actions  are  the  only 
points  of  comparison  in  which  their  moral  quality  can  differ ;  but  the 
motive  in  these  two  cases  is  the  same,  viz.  to  procure  a  higher  price 
than  we  expect  otherwise  to  obtain :  The  effect,  that  is,  the  preju- 
dice to  the  buyer,  is  also  the  same  ;  for  he  finds  himself  equally  out 
of  pocket  by  his  bargain,  whether  the  commodity,  when  he  gets 
home  with  it,  turn  out  worse  than  he  supposed,  by  the  want  of  some 
quality  which  he  expected,  or  the  discovery  of  some  fault  which  he 
did  not  expect.  If  therefore  actions  be  the  same,  as  to  all  moral 
purposes,  which  proceed  from  the  same  motives,  and  produce  the 
.iame  effects,  it  is  making  a  distinction  without  a  difference,  to  es- 
teem it  a  cheat  to  magnify  beyond  .the  truth  the  virtues  of  what  we 
have  to  sell,  but  none  to  conceal  its  faults. 

It  adds  to  the  value  of  this  kind  of  honesty,  that  the  faults  of  ma- 
ny things  are  of  a  nature  not  to  be  known  by  any  but  by  the  per- 
sons who  have  used  them  ;  so  that  the  buyer  has  no  security  from 
imposition  but  in  the  ingenuousness  and  integrity  of  the  seller. 

There  is  one  exception,  however,  to  this  rule,  namely,  where  the 
silence  of  the  seller  implies  some  fault  in  the  thing  to  be  sold,  and 
where  the  buyer  has  a  compensation  in  the  price  for  the  risk  which 
he  runs ;  as  where  a  horse,  in  a  London  repository,-  is  sold  by  public 
auction  without  warranty,  the  want  of  warranty  is  notice  of  some  un- 
soundness,  and  produces  a  proportionable  abatement  in  the  price. 

To  this  of  concealing  th'e  faults  of  wliat  we  want  to  put  off,  may 
be  referred  the  practice  of  passing  bad  money.  This  practice  we 
sometimes  hear  defended  hy  a  vulgar  excuse,  that  we  have  taken 
the  money  for  good,  and  must  therefore  get  rid  of  it.  Which  ex- 
cuse is  much  the  same  as  if  one,  who  had  been  robbed  upon  the 
highway,  should  imagine  he  had  a  right  to  reimburse  himself  out  of 
the  pocket  of  the  first  traveller  he  met ;  the  justice  of  which  rea- 
soning the  traveller  possibly  may  not  comprehend. 

Where  there  exists  no  monopoly  or  combination,  the  market- 
price  is  always  a  fair  price,  because  it  will  always  be  proportiona- 
ble to  the  use  and  sarcity  of  the  article.  Hence,  there  need  be  no 
scruple  about  demanding  or  taking  the  market-price  ;  and  all  those 
expressions,  "  provisions  are  extravagantly  dear,"  "  corn  bears  au 
"  unreasonable  price,"  and  the  like,  import  no  unfairness  or  unrea- 
sonableness in  the  seller. 

If  your  tailor  or  your  draper  charge,  or  even  ask  of  you,  more 
for  a  suit  of  clothes  than  the  market-price,  you  complain  that  3-011 
are  imposed  upon ;  you  pronounce  the  tradesman  who  makes  such 
?.  charge  dishonest ;  although  as  the  man's  goods  were  his  own.,  and 


CONTRACTS    OF    SALE.  85 

ue  had  a  right  to  prescribe  the  terms  upon  which  he  would  consent 
<o  part  with  them,  it  may  be  questioned  what  dishonesty  there  can 
be  in  the  case,  and  wherein  the  imposition  consists.  Whoever 
opens  a  shop,  or  in  any  manner  exposes  goods  to  public  sale,  virtu- 
ally engages  to  deal  with  his  customers  at  a  market-price ;  because 
it  is  upon  the  faith  and  idea  of  sucli  an  engagement  that  any  one 
rcmes  within  his  shop-doors,  or  offers  to  treat  with  him.  This  is 
expected  by  the  buyer ;  is  known  to  be  so  expected  by  the  seller ; 
which  is  enough,  according  to  the  rule  delivered  above,  to  make  it 
a  part  of  the  contract  between  them,  though  not  a  syllable  be  said 
about  it.  The  breach  of  this  implied  contract  constitutes  the  fraud 
inquired  after. 

Hence,  if  you  disclaim  any  such  engagement,  you  may  set  what 
value  you  please  upon  your  property.  If,  upon  being  asked  to  sell 
a  house,  you  answer  that  the  house  suits  your  fancy  or  convenien- 
cy,  and  that  you  will  not  turn  yourself  out  of  it  under  such  a  price ; 
the  price  fixed  may  be  double  of  what  the  house  cost,  or  would  fetch 
at  a  public  sale,  without  any  imputation  of  injustice  or  extortion 
upon  you. 

If  the  thing  sold  be  damaged,  or  perished  between  the  sale  and 
1  he  delivery,  ought  the  buyer  to  bear  the  loss,  or  the  seller  ?  This 
will  depend  upon  the  particular  construction  of  the  contract.  If 
the  seller,  either  expressly,  or  by  implication,  or  by  custom,  engage 
to  deliver  the  goods;  as  if  I  buy  a  set  of  china,  and  the  china-man 
ask  me  to  what  place  he  shall  bring  or  send  them,  and  they  are  bro- 
ken in  the  conveyance,  the  seller  must  abide  by  the  loss.  If  the 
I  lung  sold  remain  with  the  seller,  at  the  instance  or  for  the  eonve- 
niency  of  the  buyer,  then  the  buyer  undertakes  the  risk  ;  as,  if  I 
buy  a  horse,  and  mention  that  I  will  send  for  it  on  such  a  day,  (which 
is  in  effect  desiring  that  it  may  continue  with  the  seller  till  I  do  send 
ibr  it,)  then  whatever  misfortune  befals  the  horse  in  the  mean  time, 
must  be  at  my  cost. 

And  here  once  for  all,  I  would  observe,  that  innumerable  ques- 
lions  of  this  sort  are  determined  solely  by  custom  ;  not  that  custom 
possesses  any  property  authority  to  alter  or  ascertain  the  nature  of 
right  and  wrong,  but  because  the  contracting  parties  are  presumed 
to  include  in  their  stipulation  all  the  conditions  which  custom  has 
•Annexed  to  contracts  of  the  same  sort;  and  when  the  usage  is  no- 
lorious,  and  no  exception  made  to  it,  this  presumption  is  generally 
agreeable  to  the  fact.* 

*It  happens  here,  as  in  many  cases,  that  what  the  parties  ought  to  do,  and  what 
-i  imigc  o»  arbitrator  would  award  to  be  done,  may  tfe  very  different.  What  tbe 


3C  CONTRACTS    OP   HAZARD. 

If  I  order  a  pipe  of  port  from  a  wine-merchant  abroad ;  at  what 
period  the  property  passes  from  the  merchant  to  me ;  whether  upon 
delivery  of  the  wine  at  the  merchant's  warehouse  ;  upon  its  being- 
put  on  ship-board  at  Oporto  ;  upon  the  arrival  of  the  ship  in  Eng- 
land ;  at  its  destined  port ;  or  not  till  the  wine  be  committed  to  my 
servants,  or  deposited  in  my  cellar ;  are  all  questions  which  admit 
of  no  decision,  but  what  custom  points  out.  Whence  in  justice. 
as  well  as  law,  what  is  called  the  custom  of  merchants,  regulates 
the  construction  of  mercantile  concerns. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

CONTRACTS  OF  HAZARD. 

Hi'  centrals  of  hazard,  1  mean  gaming1  and  insurance. 
What  some  say  of  this  kind  of  contracts,  "  that  one  side  ought 
c'not  to  have  any  advantage  over  the  other,"  is  neither  practicable 
nor  true.  It  is  not  practicable :  for  that  perfect  equality  of  skill 
and  judgment  which  this  rule  requires,  is  seldom  to  be  met  with. 
I  might  not  have  it  in  my  power  to  play  with  fairness  a  game  a) 
cards,  billiards,  or  tennis,  lay  a  wager  at  a  horse-race,  or  under- 
write a  policy  of  insurance,  once  in  a  twelve-month,  if  I  must  wait 
till  I  meet  with  a  person,  whose  art,  skill,  and  judgement  in  these 
matters,  is  neither  greater  nor  less  than  my  own.  Nor  is  this  equa" 
lity  requisite  to  the  justice  of  the  contract.  One  party  may  give  to 
the  other  the  whole  of  the  stake,  if  he  please,  and  the  other  part} 
may  justly  accept  it,  if  it  be  given  him  ;  much  more  therefore  may 
one  give  to  the  other  a  part  of  the  stake,  or,  what  is  exactly  the 
same  thing,  an  advantage  in  the  chance  of  winning  the  whole. 

The  proper  restriction  is,  that  neither  side  have  an  advantage  by 
means  of  which  the  other  is  not  aware;  for  this  is  an  advantage- 
taken  without  being  given.  Although  the  event  be  still  an  uncer- 
tainty, your  advantage  in  the  chance  has  a  certain  value;  and  so 
much  of  the  stake  as  that  value  amounts  to,  is  taken  from  your  ad- 
versary without  his  knowledge,  and.  therefore  without  his  consent. 
If  I  sit  down  to  a  game  at  whist,  and  have  an  advantage  over  the 
adversary,  by  means  of  a  better  memory,  closer  attention,  or  a  su- 
perior knowledge  of  the  rules  and  chances  of  the  game,  the  advan- 

parties  ought  to  do  by  virtue  of  their  contract,  depends  upon  their  consciousness 
as  the  time  of  making  it ;  whereas  a  third  person  finds  it  necessary  to  found  his 
judgement  upon  piesumpiiohs,  which  presumptions  may  bo  false,  although  tli'. 
most  probable  that  he  could  proceed  hy. 


CONTRACTS  OF   LENDING-    OF    INCONSUMABLE   PROPERTY,      (i? 

tage  is  fair,  because  it  is  obtained  by  means  of  which  the  adversary 
is  aware  ;  for  he  is  aware,  when  he  sits  down  with  me,  that  I  shall 
exert  the  skill  that  I  possess  to  the  utmost.  But  if  I  gain  an  ad- 
vantage, by  packing  the  cards,  glancing  my  eye  into  the  adversa- 
ries' hands,  or  by  concerted  signals  with  my  partner,  it  is  a  dishon- 
est advantage,  because  it  depends  upon  means  which  the  adversary 
never  suspects  that  I  make  use  of. 

The  same  distinction  holds  of  all  contracts  into  which  chance  en- 
ters. If  I  lay  a  wager  at  a  horse-race  founded  upon  the  conjec- 
ture I  form  from  the  appearance,  and  character,  and  breed  of  the 
horse,  I  am  justly  entitled  to  any  advantage  which  my  judgment 
gives  me ;  but,  if  I  carry  on  a  clandestine  correspondence  with  the 
jockics,  and  find  out  from  them  that  a  trial  has  been  actually  made, 
or  that  it  is  settled  beforehand  which  horse  shall  win  the  race,  all 
such  information  is  so  much  fraud,  because  derived  from  sources 
which  the  other  did  not  suspect  when  he  proposed  or  accepted  the 
wager. 

In  speculations  in  trade,  or  in  the  stocks,  if  I  exercise  my  judgment 
upon  the  general  aspect  and  posture  of  public  affairs,  and  deal  with 
a  person  who  conducts  himself  by  the  same  sort  of  judgment,  the 
contract  has  all  the  equality  in  it  which  is  necessary  ;  but,  if  I  have 
access  to  secrets  of  state  at  home,  or  private  advice  of  some  deci- 
sive measure  or  event  abroad,  I  cannot  avail  myself  of  these  advan- 
lages  with  justice,  because  they  are  excluded  by  the  contract, 
which  proceeded  upon  the  supposition  that  I  had  no  such  advantage. 
In  insurances,  where  the  underwriter  computes  his  risk  entirely 
from  the  account  given  by  the  person  insured,  it  is  absolutely  ne- 
cessary to  the  justice  and  validity  of  the  contract,  that  this  ac- 
count be  exact  and  complete. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

CONTRACTS  OF  LENDING  OF  INCONSUMABLE  PROPERTY. 

WHEN  the  identical  loan  is  to  be  returned,  as  a  book,  a  horse,  a 
harpsichord,  it  is  called  inconsumable,  in  opposition  to  corn,  wine, 
money,  and  those  things  which  perish,  or  are  parted  with  in  the  use, 
^nd  can  therefore  only  be  returned  in  kind. 

The  questions  under  this  head  are  few  and  simple.  The  first  is,  if 
the  thing  lent  be  lost  or  damaged,  who  ought  to  bear  the  loss  or 
damage  ?  If  it  be  damaged  by  the  use,  or  by  accident  in  the  use,  for 
which  it  was  lent,  the  lender  must  bear  it :  as,  if  I  hire  a  job-coach- 


ou       CON  TRACTS    OF    LENDING    OF    INCONSUMABLE    1'KUFKKTi' 

the  wear,  tear,  and  soiling  of  the  coach  must  belong  to  the  lender : 
or  a  horse,  to  'go  a  particular  journey,  and,  in  going  the  proposed 
journey,  the  horse  die,  or  be  lamed,  the  loss  must  be  the  lender's  • 
on  the  contrary,  if  the  damage  be  occasioned  by  the  fault  of  the 
borrower,  or  by  accident  in  some  use  for  which  it  was  not  lent, 
then  the  borrower  must  make  it  good ;  as,  if  the  coach  be  overturn- 
ed or  broken  to  pieces  by  the  carelessness  of  your  coachman,  or 
the  horse  be  hired  to  take  a  morning's  ride  upon,  and  -you  go 
a-hunting  with  him,  or  leap  him  over  hedges,  or  put  him  into  your 
cart  or  carriage,  and  he  be  strained,  or  staked,  or  galled,  or  acci- 
dentally hurt,  or  drop  down  dead,  whilst  you  are  thus  using  him. 
yon  must  make  satisfaction  to  the  owner. 

Two  cases  are  distinguished  by  this  circumstance,  that  in  one 
<:ase  the  owner  foresees  the  damage  or  risk,  and  therefore  consent" 
to  undertake  it ;  in  the  other  case  he  does  not. 

It  is  possible  that  an  estate  or  a  house  may,  during  the  term  of  a 
lease,  be  so  increased  or  diminished  in  its  value,  as  to  become  worth 
much  more,  or  much  less,  than  the  rent  agreed  to  be  paid  for  it. 
In  some  of  which  cases  it  may  be  doubted   to  whom,  of  natural 
right,  the  advantage  or  disadvantage  belongs.     The  rule  of  justice 
seems  to  be  this  :  if  the  alteration  might  be  expected  by  the  parties, 
the  hirer  must  take  the  consequence ;  if  it  could  not,  the  owner. 
An  orchard,  or  a  vineyard,  or  mine,  or  a  fishery,  or  a  decoy,  may 
this  year  yield  nothing,  or  next  to  nothing,  yet  the  tenant  shall  pay 
his  rent ;  and  if  the  next  year  produce  tenfold  the  usual  profit,  no 
more  shall  be  demanded ;  because  the  produce  is  in  its  nature  pre- 
carious, and  this  variation  might  be  expected.     If  an  estate  in  the 
fens  of  Lincolnshire  or  the  isle  of  Ely,  be  overflowed  with  water  so 
as  to  be  incapable  of  occupation,   the  tenant,  notwithstanding,  is 
bound  by  the  lease ;  because  he  entered  into  it  with  a  knowledge 
and  foresight  of  this  danger.     An  the  other  hand,  if,  by  the  irrup- 
tion of  the  sea  into  a  country  where  it  was  never  known  to  have 
come  before,  by  the  change  of  the  course  of  a  river,  the  fall  of  ^ 
rock,  the  breaking  out  of  a  volcano,  the  bursting  of  a  moss,  the  in 
eursions  of  an  enemy,  or  by  a  mortal  contagion  amongst  the  cat- 
(le;  if,  by  means  like  these,  the  estate  change,  or  lose  its  value, 
the  loss  shall  fall  upon  the  owner ;  that  is,  the  tenant  shall  be  either 
discharged  from  his  agreement,  or  be  entitled  to  an  abatement  ot 
rent.     A  house  in  London,  by  the  building  of  a  bridge,  the  open- 
ing of  a  new  road  or  street,  may  become  of  ten  times  its  former 
value ;  and,  by  contrary  causes,  may  be  as  much  reduced  in  va- 
lue ;    here,   also,  as  before,  the  owner,  not  the  hirer,  shall  be  af- 
fected by  the  alteration.     The  reason  upon  which  our  determina- 


CONTRACTS   CONCERNING    THE    LENDING    OF    MONEV.  89 

lion  proceeds  is  this,  that  changes  such  as  these,  being  neither  fore- 
seen nor  provided  for  by  the  contracting  parties,  form  no  part  01 
condition  of  the  contract;  and  therefore  ought  to  have  the  same  ef- 
fect as  if  no  contract  at  all  had  been  made  (for  none  was  made 
with  respect  to  them)  that  is,  ought  to  fall  upon  the  owner. 


CHAPTER   X. 

CONTRACTS  CONCERNING  THE  LENDING  OF  MONEY. 

THERE  exists  no  reason  in  the  law  of  nature,  why  a  man  should 
not  be  paid  for  the  lending  of  his  money,  as  well  as  of  any  other 
property  into  which  the  money  might  be  converted. 

The  scruples  that  have  been  entertained  upon  this  head,  and  up- 
on the  foundation  of  which  the  receiving  of  interest  or  usury  (for 
they  formerly  meant  the  same  thing)  was  once  prohibited  in  almost 
all  Christian  countries,*  arose  from  a  passage  in  the  law  of  Mo- 
ses, Deuteronomy  xxiiL  19,  20;  "  Thou  shalt  not  lend  upon  usury 
"  to  thy  brother;  usury  of  money,  usury  of  victuals,  usury  of  any- 
-'  thing  that  is  lent  upon  usury:  unto  a  stranger  thou  mayest  lend 
"  upon  usury :  but  unto  thy  brother  thou  shalt  not  'end  upon  usu- 
"  ry." 

This  prohibition  is  now  generally  understood  to  have  been  intend- 
ed for  the  Jews  alone,  as  part  of  the  civil  or  political  law  of  their 
nation,  and  calculated  to  preserve  that  distribution  of  property  to 
which  many  <<f  their  institutions  were  subservient ;  ;•?  the  marriage 
of  an  heiress  within  her  own  tribe ;  of  a  widow  who  was  left  child- 
less, to  her  husband's  brother ;  the  year  of  jubilee,  when  alienated 
estates  reverted  to  the  family  of  the  original  proprietor; — regu- 
lations which  were  never  thought  to  be  binding  upon  any  but  the 
commonwealth  of  Israel. 

This  interpretation  is  confirmed,  I  think,  beyond  all  controversy 
by  the  distinction  made  in  the  law  between. a  Jew  and  a  foreign- 
er : — "  unto  a  stranger  thou  mayest  lend  upon  usury,  but  unto  thy 
"brother  thou  mayest  not  lend  upon  usury;"  a  distinction  which 
could  hardly  have  beon  admitted  into  a  law,  which  the  Divine  Au- 
(hor  intended  to  be  of  moral  and  of  universal  obligation. 

The  rate  of  interst  has  in  most  countries  been  regulated  by  law. 

*  By  a  statute. of  James  the  First,  interest  above  eight  pounds  per  cent,  was  pro- 
hibited (and,  consequently,  under  that  rate  allowed)  with  this  sage  provision, 
•'  That  this  statute  shall  not  be  construed  or  expounded  to  allow  the  practice  oV 
••  usury  in  point  of  Religion  or  conscience." 


90  CONTRACTS    CONCERNING    THE 

The  Roman  Law  allowed  of  twelve  pounds  per  cent,  which  Justin- 
ian reduced  at  one  stroke  to  four  pounds.  A  statute  of  the  thir- 
teenth year  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  which  was  the  first  that  tolerated 
the  receiving  of  interest  in  England  at  all,  restrained  it  to  ten 
pounds  per  cent. ;  a  statute  of  James  the  First,  to  eight  pounds;  oi 
Charles  the  Second,  to  six  pounds ;  of  Queen  Anne,  to  five  pounds, 
on  pain  of  forfeiture  of  treble  the  value  of  the  money  lent :  at  which 
rate  and  penalty  the  matter  now  stands.  The  policy  of  these  regu- 
lations is  to  check  the  power  of  accumulating  wealth  without  indus- 
try ;  to  give  encouragement  to  trade,  by  enabling  adventurers  in 
it  to  borrow  money  at  a  moderate  price ;  and  of  late  years,  to  ena- 
ble the  state  to  borrow  the  subject's  money  itself. 

Compound  interest,  though  forbidden  by  the  law  of  England,  is 
agreeable  enough  to  natural  equity ;  for  interest  detained  after  it  is 
due,  becomes,  to  all  intents  and  purposes  part  of  the  sum  lent. 
It  is  a  question  which  sometimes  occurs,  how  money  borrowed  in 
one  country,  ought  to  be  paid  in  another,  where  the  relative  value 
of  the  precious  metals  is  not  the  same.  For  example,  suppose  1 
borrow  a  hundred  guineas  in  London,  where  each  guinea  is  worth 
one  and  twenty  shillings,  and  meet  my  creditor  in  the  East  Indies, 
where  a  guinea  is  worth  no  more  perhaps  than  nineteen,  is  it  a  satis- 
faction of  the  debt  to  return  a  hundred  guirfeas  ?  or  must  I  make 
up  so  many  times  one  and  twenty  shillings  ?  I  should  think  the  lat- 
ter ;  for  it  must  be  presumed,  that  my  creditor,  had  he  not  lent  me 
his  guineas,  would  have  disposed  of  them  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
have  now  had  in  the  place  of  them  so  many  one  and  twenty  shil- 
lings; and  the  question  supposes  that  he  neither  intended,  nor  ought, 
to  be  a  sufferer,  by  parting-  with  his  money  to  me. 

When  the  relative  value  of  coin  is  altered  by  an  act  of  the  state, 
if  the  alteration  would  have  extended  to  the  identical  pieces  whicji 
were  lent,  it  is  enough  to  return  an  equal  number  of  the  same  de- 
nomination, or  their  present  value  in  any  other.  As,  if  guineas 
were  reduced  by  act  of  parliament  to  twenty  shillings,  so  many 
twenty  shillings,  as  I  borrowed  guineas,  would  be  a  just  re-payment. 
It  would  be  otherwise,  if  the  reduction  was  owing  to  a  debasement 
of  the  coin ;  for  then  respect  ought  to  be  had  to  the  comparative 
value  of  the  old  guinea  and  the  new. 

Whoever  borrows  money,  is  bound  in  conscience  to  repay  it. 
This,  every  man  can  see  ;  but  every  man  cannot  see,  or  does  not. 
however,  reflect,  that  he  is,  in  consequence,  also  bound  to  use  the 
means  necessary  to  enable  himself  to  repay  it.  "  If  he  pay  the  money 
"when  he  has  it,  or  has  it  to  spare,  he  does  all  that  an  honest  man 
•  ''an  do,"  and  all,  he  imagines,  that  is  required  of  him ;  whilst  the 


LENDING   OP   MONE'i*.  ^1 

previous  measures,  which  are  necessary  to  furnish  him  with  money, 
he  makes  no  part  of  his  care,  nor  observes  to  be  as  much  his  duty 
as  the  other;  such  as  selling  a  family-seat,  or  a  family-estate,  con- 
tracting- his  plan  of  expense,  laying  down  his  equipage,  reducing 
the  number  of  his  servants,  or  any  of  those  humiliating  sacrifices, 
which  justice  requires  of  a  man  in  debt,  the  moment  he  perceives 
that  he  has  no  reasonable  prospect  of  paying  his  debts  without  them. 
An  expectation  which  depends  upon  the  continuance  of  his  own  life, 
will  not  satisfy  an  honest  man,  if  a  better  provision  be  in  his  power : 
for  it  is  a  breach  of  faith  to  subject  a  creditor,  when  we  can  help  it, 
to  the  risk  of  our  life,  be  the  event  what  it  will ;  that  not  being  the 
security  to  which  the  credit  was  given. 

I  know  few  subjects  which  have  been  more  misunderstood,  than 
the  law  which  authorizes  the  imprisonment  of  insolvent  debtors.     It 
has  been  represented  as  a  gratuitous  cruelty,   which  contributes 
nothing  to  the  reparation  of  the  creditor's  loss,  or  to  the  advantage 
of  the  community.    This  prejudice  arises  principally  from  consider- 
ing the  sending  of  a  debtor  to  gaol,  as  an  act  of  private  satisfac- 
tion to  the  creditor,  instead  of  a  public  punishment.     As  an  act 
of  satisfaction  or  i-evenge,  it  is  always  wrong  in  the  motive,  and 
often  intemperate  and  undistinguishing  in  the  exercise.     Consider 
it  as  a  public  punishment;  founded  upon  the  same  reason,  and  sub- 
ject to  the  same  rules,  as  other  punishments ;  and  the  justice  of  it, 
together  with  the  degree  to  which  it  should  be  extended,  and  the 
objects  upon/whom  it  may  be  inflicted,  will  be   apparent.     There 
are  frauds  relating  to  insolvency,  against  which  it  is  as  necessary  to 
provide  punishment,  as  for  any  public  crimes  whatever :  as  where  a 
man  gets  your  money  into  his  possession,  and  forthwith  runs  away 
with  it ;  or,  what  is  little  better,  squanders  it  in  vicious  expenses  ; 
or  stakes  it  at  the  gaming-table  ;  in  the  Alley  ;  or  upon  wild  adven- 
tures in  trade ;  or  is  conscious,  at  the  time  he  borrows   it,  that  ho 
can  never  repay  it ;  or  wilfully  puts  it  out  of  his  power,  by  profuse 
living;  or  conceals  his  effects,  or  transfers  them  by  collusion  to 
another  ;  not  to  mention  the  Obstinacy  of  some  debtors,  who  had  ra- 
ther rot  in  a  gaol,  than  deliver  up  their  estates  ;  for,  to  say  the  truth, 
the  first  absurdity  is  in  the  law  itself,  which  leaves  it  in  a  debtor's 
power  to  withhold  any  part  of  his  property  from  the  claim  of  hi* 
creditors.     The  only  question  is,  whether  the  punishment  be  pro- 
perly placed  in  the  hands  of  an  exasperated  creditor  :  for  which  it 
may  be  said,  that  these  frauds  are  so  subtle  and  versatile,  that  no- 
thing but  a  discretionary '-power  can  overtake  them  :  and  that  no  dis- 
cretion is  likely  to  be  so  well  informed,  so  vigilant,  and  so  active- 
\s  that  of  the  creditor. 


92  SERVICE. 

It  must  be  remembered,  however,  that  the  confinement  of  a  debt 
or  in  a  goal  is  a  punishment ;  and  that  every  punishment  supposes  a 
crime.  To  pursue,  therefore,  with  the  extremity  of  legal  rigour,  a 
sufferer,  whom  the  fraud  or  failure  of  others,  his  own  want  of  capa- 
city," or  the  disappointments  and  miscarriage  to  which  all  human  af 
fairs  are  subject,  have  reduced  to  ruin,  merely  because  we  are  pro- 
voked by  our  loss,  and  seek  to  relieve  the  pain  we  feel  by  that  which 
\ve  inflict,  is  repugnant  not  only  to  humanity,  but  to  justice;  for  it 
is  to  prevent  a  provision  of  law,  designed  for  a  different  and  salutary 
purpose,  to  the  gratification  of  private  spleen  and  resentment.  Any 
alteration.in  these  laws,  which  could  distinguish  the  degrees  of  guilt, 
or  convert  the  service  of  the  insolvent  debtor  to  some  public  profit, 
might  be  an  improvement;  but  any  considerable  mitigation  of  their 
rigour,  under  colour  of  relieving  the  poor,  would  increase  their 
hardships.  For  whatever  deprives  the  creditor  of  his  power  of  co- 
ercion, deprives  him  of  his  security ;  and  as  this  must  add  greatly 
f  o  the  difficulty  of  obtaining  credit,  the  poor  especially  the  lower 
sort  of  tradesmen,  are  the  first  who  would  suffer  by  such  a  regula- 
tion. As  tradesmen  must  buy  before  they  sell,  you  would  exclude 
from  trade  two  thirds  of  those  who  now  carry  it  on,  if  none  were 
enabled  to  enter  into  it  without  a  capital  sufficient  for  prompt  pay- 
ments. An  advocate,  therefore,  for  the  interests  of  this  impor- 
tant class  of  the  community,  will  deem  it  more  eligible,  that  one 
out  of  a  thousand  should  be  sent  to  gaol  by  his  creditor,  than  thai 
the  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  should  be  straitened  and  embar- 
rassed, and  many  of  them  lie  idle,  by  the  want  of  credit. 


.  CHAPTER    XI. 

CONTRACTS  OF  LABOUIi. 

SERVICE. 

SERVICE  in  this  country  is,  as  it  ought  to  be,  voluntary,  and  bj 
contract;  and  the  master's  authority  extends  no  further  than  the 
terms  or  equitable  construction  of  the  contract  will  justify. 

The  treatment  of  servants,  as  to  diet,  discipline,  and  accommo- 
dation, the  kind  and  qnantit}'  of  work  to  be  required  of  them,  the 
intermission,  liberty,  and  indulgence  to  be  allowed  them,  must  be 
determined  in  n  great  measure  by  custom ;  for  where  the  contract 
involves  so  many  particulars,  the  contracting  parties  express  a  few 
perhaps  of  the  principal,  and  by  mutual  understanding,  refer  the 
rest  to  the  known  custom  of  the  country  in  like  cases. 

A  servant  is  not  bound  to  obey  the  unlawful  commands  of  his 


SERVICE.  93 

to  minister,  for  instance,  to  his  unlawful  pleasures;  or  to 
assist  him  in  unlawful  practices  in  his  profession ;  as  in  smuggling 
or  adulterating  the  articles  which  he  deals  in.  For  the  servant 
is  bound  in  nothing  but  his  own  promise ;  and  the  obligation  of  a 
promise  extends  not  to  things  unlawful. 

For  the  same  reason,  the  master's  authority  is  no  justification  of 
the  servant  in  doing  wrong;  for  the  servant's  own  promise  upon- 
which  that  authority  is  founded,  would  be  none. 

Clerks  and  apprentices  ought  to  be  employed  entirely  in  the  pro- 
fession or  trade  they  are  intended  to  learn.  Instruction  is  their 
wages ;  and  to  deprive  them  of  the  opportunities  of  instruction,  by 
taking  up  their  time  with  occupations  foreign  to  their  business,  is 
to  defraud  them  of  their  wages. 

The  master  is  responsible  for  what  a  servant  does  iii  the  ordinary 
course  of  his  employment;  for  it  is  done  under  a  general  authority 
committed  to  him,  which  is  in  justice  equivalent  to  a  specific  direc- 
tion. Thus,  if  I  pay  money  to  a  banker's  clerk,  the  banker  is  ac- 
countable ;  but  not  if  I  had  paid  it  to  his  butler  or  his  footman, 
"whose  business  is  not  to  receive  money.  Upon  the  same  principle, 
if.  I  once  send  a  servant  to  take  up  goods  upon  a  credit,  whatever 
goods  he  afterwards  takes  up  at  the  same  shop,  so  long  as  he  con- 
tinues in  my  service,  are  justly  chargeable  to  my  account. 

The  law  of  this  country  goes  great  lengths  in  intending  a  kind  of 
concurrence  in  the  master,  so  as  to  charge  him  with  the  conse- 
quences of  his  servant's  conduct.  If  an  inkeeper's  servant  rob  his 
guests,  the  innkeeper  must  make  restitution ;  if  a.  farrier's  servant 
lame  your  horse,  the  farrier  must  answer  for  the  damage :  and  still 
further,  if  your  coachman  or  carter  drive  over  a  passenger  in  the 
road,  the  passenger  may  recover  from  you  a  satisfaction  for  the 
hurt  he  suffers.  But  these  determinations  stand,  I  think,  rather 
upon  the  authority  of  the  law,  than  any  principle  of  natural  justice. 

There  is  a  carelessness  and  facility  in  "giving  characters,"  as  it 
is  called,  of  servants,  especially  when  given  in  writing,  or  accord- 
ing to  some  established  form,  which,  to  speak  plainly  of  it,  is  a 
cheat  upon  those  who  accept  them.  They  are  given  with  so  little  re- 
serve and  veracity,  that  "  I  should  as  soon  depend,"  says  the  author 
of  the  Rambler,  "  upon  an  acquittal  at  the  Old  Bailey,  by  way  of 
"  recommendation  of  a  servant's  honesty,  as  upon  one  of  these 
;' characters."  It  is  sometimes  carelessness;  and  sometimes  also 
to  get  rid  of  a  bad  servant  without  the  uneasiness  of  a  dispute ;  for 
which  nothing  can  be  pleaded  but  the  most  ungenerous  of  all  ex- 
cuses, that  tbe  person  we  deceive  is  a  stranger. 

There  is  a  conduct  the  reverse  of  this,  but  more  injurious,  be- 
9 


94  SERVICE. 

cause  the  injury  falls  where  there  is  no  remedy;  I  mean  the  ob* 
structing  of  a  servant's  advancement,  because  you  are  unwilling  to 
spare  his  service.  To  stand  in  the  way  of  your  servant's  interest, 
is  a  poor  return  for  his  fidelity ;  and  affords  slender  encouragement 
for  good  behaviour  in  this  numerous  and  therefore  important  part 
of  community.  It  is  a  piece  of  injustice  which,  if  practised  towards 
an  equal,  the  law  of  honour  would  lay  hold  of;  as  it  is,  it  is  neither 
uncommon  nor  disreputable. 

A  master  of  a  family  is  culpable,  if  he  permit  any  vices  among- 
Lis  domestics,  which  he  might  restrain  by  due  discipline,  and  a  pro- 
per interference.  This  results  from  the  general  obligation  to  pre- 
vent misery  when  in  our  power ;  and  the  assurance  which  we  have, 
that  vice  and  misery  at  the  long  run  go  together.  Care  to  maintain 
in  his  family  a  sense  of  virtue  and  religion,  received  the  Divine 
approbation  in  the  person  of  ABRAHAM,  Gen.  xviii.  19. — "I  know 
"  him,  that  he  will  command  his  children,  and  his  household  after 
"  him ;  and  they  shall  keep  the  ways  of  the  LORD,  to  do  justice 
"and  judgment."  And  indeed  no  authority  seems  so  well  adapted 
to  this  purpose,  as  that  of  masters  of  families;  because  none  ope- 
rates upon  the  subjects  of  it  with  an  influence  so  immediate  and 
constant. 

What  the  Christian  Scriptures  have  delivered  concerning  the 
relation  and  reciprocal  duties  of  masters  and  servants,  breathes  a 
spirit  of  liberality,  very  little  known  ip  ages  when  servitude  was 
slavery ;  and  which  flowed  from  a  habit  of  contemplating  mankind 
under  the  common  relation  in  which  they  stand  to  their  Creator, 
and  with  respect  to  their  interest  in  another  existence.*  "  Ser- 
"  vants,  be  obedient  to  them  that  are  your  masters  according  to  the 
"flesh,  with  fear  and  trembling;  in  singleness  of  your  heart,  as 
"  unto  Christ ;  not  with  eye-service,  as  men-pleasers,  but  as  the 
"  servants  of  Christ,  doing  the  will  of  God  from  the  heart ;  with 
"good  will,  doing  service  as  to  the  Lord,  and  not  to  men :  knowing 
"  that  whatsoever  good  thing  any  man  doeth,  the  same  shall  he  re- 
"  ceive  of  the  LORD,  whether  he  be  bond  or  free.  And  ye  masters 
"do  the  same  thing  unto  them,  forbearing  threatening ;  knowing 
"  that  your  Master  also  is  in  heaven;  neither  is  there  respect  of 
•'persons  with  him."  The  idea  or  referring  their  service' to  God, 
of  considering  him  as  having  appointed  them  their  task,  that  they 
were  doing  his  will,  and  were  to  look  to  him  for  their  reward,  was 
new  ;  and  affords  a  greater  security  to  the  master  than  any  inferior 
principle,  because  it  tends  to  produce  a  steady  and  cordial  obedi- 

*Eph.  vi.  3 — 9 


COMMlSSIOJiS.  j 

eoce,  in  the  place  of  that  constrained  service,  which  cart  never  be 
trusted  out  of  sight,  and  which  is  justly  enough  called  eye-service. 
The  exhortation  to  masters,  to  keep  in  view  their  own  subjection 
and  accountableness,  was  no  less  reasonable. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

CONTRACTS  OF  LABOUR. 

COMMISSIONS. 

WHOEVER  undertakes  another  man's  business,  makes  it  his  own. 
ihat  is,  promises  to  employ  upon  it  the  same  care,  attention,  and 
diligence,  that  he  would  do  if  it  were  actually  his  own  ;  for  he  knows 
lhat  the  business  was  committed  to  him  with  that  expectation.  And 
he  promises  no  more  than  this.  Therefore  an  agent  is  not  obliged 
to  wait,  inquire,  solicit,  ride  about  the  country,  toil,  or  study,  whilst 
there  remains  a  possibility  of  benefitting  his.  employer.  If  he  ex- 
ert so  much  of  his  activity,  and  use  such  caution,  as  the  value  of  the 
business,  in  his  judgment,  deserves ;  that  is,  as  he  would  have  thought 
sufficient  if  the  same  interest  of  his  own  had  been  at  stake,  he  has 
discharged  his  duty,  although  it  should  afterwards  turn  out,  that  by 
more  activity,  and  longer  perseveraece,  he  might  have  concluded 
the  business  with  greater  advantage. 

This  rule  defines  the  duty  of  factors,  stewards,  attornies,  and 
advocates. 

One  of  the  chief  difficulties  of  an  agent's  situation  is,  to  know 
how  far  he  may  depart  from  his  instructions,  when  he  sees  reason 
to  believe,  from  some  change  or  discovery  in  the  circumstances  of 
his  commissioii,  that  his  employer,  if  he  were  present,  would  alter 
his  intention.  The  latitude  allowed  to  agents  in  this  respect,  will 
be  different,  according  as  the  commission  was  confidential  or  minis- 
terial ;  and  according  as  the  general  rule  and  nature  of  ^he  service 
require  a  prompt  and  precise  obedience  to  orders,  or  not.  An  at- 
torney sent  to  treat  for  an  estate,  if  he  found  out  a  flaw  in  the  title, 
would  desist  from  proposing  the  price  he  was  directed  to  propose  ; 
and  very  properly.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  commander-in-chief 
of  an  army  detach  an  officer  under  him  upon  a  particular  service, 
which  service  turns  out  more  difficult,  or  less  expedient,  than  was 
supposed,  insomuch  that  the  officer  is  convinced  that  his  commander, 
if  he  were  acquainted  with  the  true  state  in  which  the  affair  is  found, 
«rould  recall  his  orders ;  yet,  if  he  cannot  wait  for  fresh  directions 


COMMISSIONS. 

without  prejudice  to  the  expedition  he  is  sent  upon,  he  must,  at  aft 
hazards,  pursue  those  which  he  brought  out  with  him. 

What  is  trusted  to  an  agent,  may  be  lost  or  damaged  in  his  handc 
by  misfortune.  An  agent  who  acts  without  pay  is  clearly  not  an 
swerable  for  the  loss  ;  for  if  he  give  his  labour  for  nothing,  it  can- 
not be  presumed  that  he  gave  also  security  for  the  success  of  it.  It 
the  agent  be  hired  to  the  business,  the  question  will  depend  upon 
the  apprehension  of  the  parties  nt  tho  time  of  making  the  contract; 
which  apprehension  of  theirs  must  be  collected  chiefly  from  custom, 
by  which  probably  it  was  guided.  Whether  a  pub  lie  carrier  ought 
to  account  for  goods  sent  by  him ;  the  owner  or  master  of  a  ship 
for  the  cargo ;  the  post-office  for  letters,  or  bills  enclosed  in  letters, 
where  the  loss  is  not  imputed  to  any  fault  or  neglect  of  theirs,  art 
questions  of  this  sort.  Any  expression,  which  by  implication  amount^ 
to  a  promise,  will  be  binding  upon  the  agent,  without  custom ;  as 
where  the  proprietors  of  a  stage-coach  advertise  that  they  will  not 
be  accountable  for  money,  plate,  or  jewels,  this  makes  them  ac- 
countable for  every  thing  else  ;  or  where  the  price  is  too  much  for 
the  labour,  part  of  it  may  be  considered  as  premium  for  insurance. 
On  the  other  hand,  any  caution  on  the  part  of  the  owner  to  guard 
against  danger,  is  evidence  that  he  considers  the  risk  to  be  his  ;  a? 
cutting  a  bank-bill  in  two,  to  send  by  post  at  different  times. 

Universally,  unless  a  promme,  either  express  or  tacit,  can  be 
proved  against  the  agent,  the  loss  must  fall  upon  the  owner. 

The  agent  may  be  a  sufferer  in  his  own  person  or  property  by  the 
business  which  he  undertakes ;  as  where  one  goes  a  journey  for 
another,  and  lames  his  horse  by  a  fall  upon  the  road,  or  is  hurt  him- 
self, can  the  agent  in  such  a  case  claim  a  compensation  for  the  mis- 
fortune ?  Unless  the  same  be  provided  for  by  express  stipulation 
the  agent  is  not  entitled  to  any  compensation  from  his  employer  on 
that  account  ;  for  where  the  danger  is  not  foreseen,  there  can  be  no 
reason  to  believe  that  the  employer  engaged  to  indemnify  the  agent 
against  it,  much  less  where  it  is  foreseen  ;  for  whoever  knowinglv 
undertakes  a  dangerous  employment,  in  common  construction,  takes 
upon  himself  the  danger  and  consequences ;  as  where  a  fireman  un- 
dertakes for  a  reward  to  rescue  a  box  of  writings  from  the 
or  a  sailor  to  bring  off  a  passenger  from  a  ship  in  a  storm. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

CONTRACTS  .OF  LABOUR. 

PARTNERSHIP. 

X  KNOW  of  nothing  upon  the  subject  of  partnership  that  requires 
explanation,  but  how  the  profits  are  to  be  divided  where  one  part- 
ner contributes  money  and  the  other  labour,  which  is  a  common 
^case. 

Rule.  From  the  stock  of  the  partnership  deduct  the  sum  advan- 
ced, and  divide  the  remainder  between  the  monied  partner  and  the 
labouring  partner,  in  the  proportion  of  the  interest  of  the  money  to 
the  wages  of  the  labour,  allowing  such.a  rate  of  interest  as  money 
might  be  borrowed  for  upon  the  same  security,  and  such  wages  as 
a  journeyman  would  require  for  the  same  labour  and  trust. 

Example.  A  advances  a  thousand  pounds,  but  knows  nothing  of 
the  business  ;  B  produces  no  money,  but  has  been  brought  up  to  the 
business,  and  undertakes  to  conduct  it.  At  the  end  of  the  year  the 
.stock  and  the  effects  of  the  partnership  amount  to  twelve  hundred 
pounds,  consequently  there  are  two  hundred  pounds  to  be  divided. 
Now,  nobody  would  lend  money  upon  the  event  of  the  business 
succeeding,  which  is  A's  security,  under  'six  per  cent.  ;  therefore  A 
must  be  allowed  sixty  pounds  for  the  interest  of  his  money.  B,  before 
he  engaged  in  the  partnership,  earned  thirty  pounds  a-year  in  the 
same  employment  ?  his  labour,  therefore,  ought  to  be  valued  at 
thirty  pounds  :  And  the  two  hundred  pounds  must  be  divided  be- 
tween the  partners  in  the  proportion  of  sixty  to  thirty  that  is,  A 
must  recieve  one  hundred  and  thirty-three  pounds  six  shillings  and 
•eightpencc,  and  B  sixty-six  pounds  thirteen  shillings  and  fourpence. 

If  there  be  nothing  gained,  A  loses  his  interest,  and  B  his  labour; 
which  is  right.  If  the  original  stock  be  diminished,  by  this  rule  B 
loses  only  his  labour,  as  before,  whereas  A  loses  his  interest,  and 
part  of  the  principal  ;  for  which  eventual  disadvantage  A  is  com- 
pensated, by  having  the  interest  of  his  money  computed  at  six  per 
cent,  in  the  division  of  the  profits,  when  there  is  any. 

It  is  true,  that  the  division  of  the  profit  is  seldom  forgotten  in  the 
constitution  of  the  partnership,  and  is  therefore  commonly  settled 
by  express  agreement  ;  but  these  agreements,  to  be  equitable,  should 
pursue  the  principle  of  the  rule  here  laid  down. 

All  the  partners  are  bound  by  what  any  one  of  them  does  in  the 
course  of  the  business  ;  Yor,  quoad  hoc,  each  partner  is  considered 
AS  an  authorized  agent  for  the  rest. 
q* 


V?  OFFICES. 

CHAPTER    XXV. 

CONTRACTS  OF  LABOUR. 

OFFICES. 

IN  many  offices,  as  schools,  fellowships  of  colleges,  professorship* 
of  the  universities,  and  the  like,  there  is  a  twofold  contract,  one 
with  the  founder,  the  other  with  the  electors. 

The  contract  with  the  founder  obliges  the  incumbent  of  the  office 
to  discharge  every  duty  appointed  by  the  charter,  statutes,  deed  ot 
gift,  or  will  of  the  founder ;  because  the  endowment  was  given,  and. 
consequently  accepted  for  that  purpose,  and  upon  these  conditions. 

The  contract  with  the  electors  extends  this  obligation  to  all  du- 
ties that  have  been  customarily  connected  with,  and  reckoned  a  part 
of  the  office,  though  not  prescribed  by  the  founder ;  for  the  elec- 
tors expect  from  the  person  they  choose  all  the  duties  which  hie 
predecessors  have  discharged ;  and  as  the  person  elected  cannot  be 
ignorant  of  their  expectation,  if  he  mean  to  refuse  this  condition 
he  ought  to  apprize  them  of  his  objection. 

And  here  let  it  be  observed  that  the  permission  of  the  electors  is, 
in  conscience,  an  excuse  from  this  last  class  of  duties  only ;  be- 
cause this  class  results  from  a  contract  to  which  the  electors  and 
the  person  elected  are  the  only  parties.  The  other  class  of  duties 
results  from  a  different  contract. 

It  is  a  question  of  some  magnitude  and  difficulty,  what  officer 
may  be  conscientiously  supplied  by  -a.  deputy. 

We  will  state  the  several  objections  to  the  substitution  of  a  de- 
puty ;  and  then  it  will  be  understood,  that  a.  deputy  may  be  allowed 
in  all  cases  to  which  these  objections  do  not  apply. 
An  office  may  not  be  discharged  by  deputy, 

1.  Where  a  particular  confidence  is  reposed  in  the  person  ap 
pointed  to  it;  as  the  office  of  a  steward,  guardian,  judge,  command- 
er-in-chief  by  land  or  sea. 

2.  Where  the  custom  hinders;  as  in  the  case  of  schoolmasters, 
tutors,  and  of  commissions  in  the  army  and  navy. 

3.  Where  the  duty  cannot,  from  its  nature,  be  so  well  perform- 
ed by  a  deputy;  as  the  deputy-governor  of  a  province  may  not 
possess  the  legal  authority,  or  the  actual  influence  of  his  principal. 

4.  When  some  inconveniency  would  result  to  the  service  in  ge- 
neral from  the  permission  of  deputies  in  such  cases;  for  example, 
it  is  probable  that  military  merit  would  be  much  discouraged,  if 
the  duties  belonging  to  commissions  in  (he  army  were  generally 
allowed  to  be  executed  by  substitutes. 


The  non-residence  of  the  parochial  clergy,  who  supply  the  duty 
of  their  benefices  by  curates,  is  worthy  of  a  more  distinct  conside- 
ration. And  in  order  to  draw  the  question  upon  this  case  to  a  point, 
we  will  suppose  the  officiating  curate  to  discharge  every  duty 
which  his  principal,  were  he  present,  would  be  bound  to  discharge, 
and  in  a  manner  equally  beneficial  to  the  parish :  under  which  cir- 
cumstances, the  only  objection  to  the  absence  of  the  principal,  at 
least  the  only  one  of  the  foregoing  objections,  is  the  last. 

And,  in  my  judgment,  the  force  of  this  objection  will  be  much 
diminished,  if  the  absent  rector  or  vicar  be,  in  the  mean  time,  en- 
gaged in  any  function  or  employment  of  equal  importance  to  the 
general  interest  of  religion,  or  of  greater.  For  the  whole  revenue 
of  the  national  church  may  properly  enough  be  considered  as  a 
common  fund  for  the  support  of  the  national  religion  ;  and  if  R 
clergyman  be  serving  the  cause  of  Christianity  and  Protestantism, 
it  can  make  little  difference,  out  of  what  particular  portion  of  this 
fund,  that  is,  by  the  tithes  and  glebe  of  what  particular  parish,  his 
service  be  requited ;  any  more  than  it  can  prejudice  the  king's  ser- 
vice, that  an  officer  who  has  signalized  his  merit  in  America, 
should  be  rewarded  with  the  government  of  a  fort  or  castle  in  Ire- 
land, which  he  never  saw;  but  for  the  custody  of  which  proper 
provision  is  made  and  care  taken. 

Upon  the  principle  thus  explained,  this  indulgence  is  due  to  none 
more  than  to  those  who  are  occupied  in  cultivating  or  communica- 
ting religious  knowledge,  or  the  sciences  subsidiary  to  religion. 

This  way  of  considering  the  revenues  of  the  church  as  a  com- 
mon fund  for  the  same  purpose,  is  the  more  equitable,  as  the  value 
of  particular  preferments  bears  no  proportion  to  the  particular 
charge  or  labour. 

But  when  a  man  draws  upon  this  fund,  whose  studies  and  env 
ployments  bear  no  relation  to  the  object  of  it ;  and  who  is  no  fur- 
ther a  minister  of  the  Christian  religion,  than  as  a  cockade  makea 
a  soldier,  it  seems  a  misapplication  little  better  than  robbery. 

And  to  those  who  have  the  management  of  such  matters  I  sub- 
mit this  question,  whether  the  impoverishing  of  the  fund  by  con- 
verting the  best  share  of  it  into  annuities  for  the  gay  and  illiterate 
youth  of  great  families,  threatens  not  to  starve  and  stifle  the  little 
clerical  merit  that  is  left  amongst  us? 

All  legal  dispensations  from  residence  proceed  upon  the  supposi 
tion,  that  the  absentee  is  detained  from  his  living  by  some  engage- 
ment of  equal  or  of  greater  public  importance.     Therefore,  if  in  a 
case  where  no  such  reason  can  with  truth  be  pleaded,  it  be  said 
that  this  question  regards  a  right  of  property,  and  that  all  right  of 


100  LIES. 

property  awaits  the  disposition  of  law ;  that,  therefore,  if  the  law, 
which  gives  a  man  the  emoluments  of  a  living,  excuse  him  from  re- 
siding upon  it,  he  is  excused  in  conscience :  we  answer  that  the  law 
does  not  excuse  him  by  intention,  and  that  all  other  excuses  arr 
fraudulent. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


A  LIE  is  a-  breach  of  promise ;  for  whoever  seriously  addresses 
liis  discourse  to  another  tacitly  promises  to  speak  the  trutli  because 
lie  knows  that  the  truth  is  expected. 

Or  the  obligation  of  veracity  may  be  made  out  from  the  direct  ill 
consequences  of  lying  to  social  happiness.  Which  consequences 
consist,  either  in  some  specific  injury  to  particular  individuals,  or 
to  the  destruction  of  (hat  confidence,  which  is  essential  to  the  inter 
course  of  human  life ;  for  which  latter  reason,  a  lie  may  be  perni- 
cious in  its  general  tendency,  and  therefore  criminal,  though  it  pro- 
duce no  particular  or  visible  mischief  to  any  one. 

There  are  falsehoods  which  are  not  lies ;  that  is,  which  are  not 
criminal ;  as, 

1.  Where    no  one  is  deceived;  which  is  the  case  in  parables, 
fables,  novels,  jests,  tales  to  create  mirth,  ludicrous  embellishments 
of  a  story,  where  thetleclared  design  of  the  speaker  is  not  to  inform, 
but  to  divert ;  compliments  in  the  subscription  of  a  letter,  a  servant's 
denying  his  master,  a  prisoner's  pleading  not  guilty,  an  advocate 
asserting  the  justice,  or  his  belief  of  the  justice  of  his  client's  cause. 
In  such  instances.,  no  confidence  is  destroyed,  because  none  was  re- 
posed ;  no  promise  to  speak  the  truth  is  violated,  because  none  was 
given,  or  understood  to  be  given. 

2.  Where  the  person  you  speak  to  has  no  right  to  know  the  truth, 
or,  more  properly,  where  little  or  no  inconveniency  results  from 
the  want  of  confidence  in  such  cases  ;  as,  where  you  tell  a  false- 
hood to  a  madman,  for  his  own  advantage;  to  a  robber,  to  conceal 
your  property  ;  to  an  assassin,  to  defeat  or  divert  him  from  his  pur- 
pose.   The  particular  consequence  is  by  the  supposition  beneficial  : 
and  as  to  the  general  consequence,  the  worst  that  can  happen  is, 
that  the  madman,  the  robber,  the  assassin,  will  not  trust  you  again  ; 
which  (beside  that  the  first  is  incapable  of  deducing  regular  conclu- 
sions from  having  been  once  deceived,  and  ihe  two  last  not  likely 
to  come  a  second  time  in  your  way)  is  sufficiently  compensated  by 
•he  immediate  benefit  which  you  propose  by  the  falsehood. 


tlES.  10 J 

It  is  upon  this  principle,  that,  by  the  laws  of  war,  it  is  allowed  to 
deceive  an  enemy  by  feints,  false  colours,*  spies,  false,  intelligence^ 
and  the  like ;  but  by  no  means  in  treaties,  truces,  signals  of  capitu- 
lation or  surrender :  and  the  difference  is,  that  the  former  suppose 
hostilities  to  continue,  the  latter  are  calculated  to  terminate  or  sus- 
pend them.  In  the  conduct  of  war,  and  whilst  the  war  continues, 
there  is  no  use,  or  rather  no  place,  for  confidence  betwixt  the  con- 
tending' parties  :  but  in  whatever  relates  to  the  termination  of  war, 
the  most  religious  fidelity  is  expected,  because  without  it  wars  could 
not  cease,  nor  the  victors  be  secure,  but  by  the  entire  destruction 
of  the  vanquished. 

Many  people  indulge,  in  serious  discourse,  a  habit  of  fiction  and 
exaggeration,  in  the  accounts  they  give  of  themselves,  of  their  ac- 
quaintance, or  of  the  extraordinary  things  which  they  have  seen  or 
heard ;  and  so  long  as  the  facts  they  relate  are  indifferent,  and  fheir 
narratives,  though  false,  are  inoffensive,  it  may  seem  a  superstitious 
regard  to  truth,  to  censure  them  merely  for  truth's  sake. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  pronounce  beforehand, 
with  certainty,  concerning  any  lie,  that  it  is  inoffensive.  Volat 
irrevocabile ;  and  collects  oftimes  accretions  in  its  flight,  which 
entirely  change  its  nature.  It  may  owe  possibly  its  mischief  to  the 
officiousness  or  misrepresentation  of  those  who  circulate  it ;  but  the 
mischief  is  nevertheless,  in  some  degree,  chargeable  upon  the 
original  author. 

In  the  next  place,  this  liberty  in  conversation  defeats  its  own  end. 
Much  of  the  pleasure,  and  all  the  benefit  of  conversation,  depends, 
upon  our  opinion  of  the  speaker's  veracity ;  for  which  this  rule 
leaves  no  foundation.  The  faith  indeed  of  a  hearer  must  be  ex- 
tremely perplexed,  who  considers  the  speaker,  or  believes  that  the 
speaker  considers  himself,  as  under  no  obligation  to  adhere  to  truth, 
but  according  to  the  particular  importance  of  what  he  relates. 

But  besides  and  above  both  these  reasons,  white  lies  always  intro- 
duce others  of  a  darker  complexion.  I  have  seldom  known  any  one 
who  deserted  truth  in  trifles,  tViat  could  be  trusted  in  matters  of  im- 
portance. Nice  distinctions  are  out  the  question,  upon  occasions 
which,  like  those  of  speech,  return  every  hour.  The  habit  there- 
fore, when  once  formed,  is  easily  extended  to  serve  the  designs  of 
malice  or  interest ; — like  all  habits,  it  spreads  indeed  of  itself. 

*  There  have  been,  two  or  three  instances  of  l&te,  of  English  ships  decoying  ar< 
enemy  into  their  power,  by  counterfeiting  signals  of  distress  ;  an  artifice  which 
ought  to  be  reprobated  by  the  common  indignation  of  mankind :  for,  a  few  exam- 
ples of  captures  effected  by  this  stratagem,  would  put  an  end  to  that  promptitude 
in  affording  assistance  to  ships  in  distress  ;  which  is  the  best  virtue  in  a  seafaring 
Character,  and  by  which  the  perils  of  navigation  arc  diminished  to  all. 


502  OATHS. 

Pious  frauds,  as  they  are  improperly  enough  called,  pretended 
inspirations,  forging  books,  counterfeit  miracles,  are  impositions  ot 
a  more  serious  nature.  It  is  possible  that  they  may  sometimes,  though 
seldom,  have  been  set  up  and  encouraged,  with  a  design  to  do  good  : 
but  the  good  they  aim  at,  requires  that  the  belief  of  them  should 
be  perpetual,  which  is  hardly  possible ;  and  the  detection  of  the 
fraud  is  sure  to  disparage  the  credit  of  all  pretensions  of  the  same 
nature.  Christianity  has  suffered  more  injury  from  this  cause,  than 
from  all  other  causes  put  together. 

As  there  may  be  falsehoods  which  are  not  lies,  so  there  may  be 
lies,  without  literal  or  direct  falsehood.  An  opening  is  always  left 
lor  this  species  of  prevarication,  when  the  literal  and  grammatical 
signification  of  a  sentence  is  different  from  the  popular  and  cus- 
tomary meaning.  It  is  the  wilful  deceit  that  makes  the  lie ;  and 
we  wilfully  deceive,  when  our  expressions  arc  not  true  in  the  sense 
in  which  we  believe  the  bearer  apprehends  them.  Besides,  it  is 
absurd  to  contend  for  any  sense  of  words,  in  opposition  to  usage ; 
for,  all  senses  of  all  words  are  founded  upon  usage,  and  upon  no- 
thing else. 

Or,  a  man  may  act  a  lie,  as  by  pointing  his  finger  in  a  wrong 
direction,  when  a  traveller  inquires  of  him  IKS  road  ;  or  when  a 
tradesman  shuts  up  his  windows,  to  induce  his  creditors  to  believe 
that  he  is  abroad ;  for  to  all  moral  purposes,  and  therefore  as  to 
veracity,  speech  and  action  are  the  same  ;  speech  being  only  a 
mode  of  action. 

Or,  lastly,  there  may  be  lies  of  ommission.  A  writer  of  English 
history,  who,  in  his  account  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the  First,  should 
wilfully  suppress  any  evidence  of  that  prince's  despotic  measures 
;md  designs,  might  be  said  to  lie ;  for,  by  entitling  his  book  a  His* 
tory  of  England,  he  engages  to  relate  the  whole  truth  of  the  history, 
nr  at  least  all  he  knows  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XVX. 

OATHS. 

I .  Forms  of  Oaths. 

II.  Signification. 

III.  Lawfulness. 

IV.  Obligation. 

V.  What  oaths  do  not  bind. 

VI.  In  what  sense  oaths  are  to  be  interpreted 


1.  THE  forms  of  oaths,  like  other  religious  ceremonies,  have  been 
always  various  ;  but  consisting-,  for  the  most  part  of  some  bodily 
action,*  and  of  a  prescribed  form  of  words.  Amongst  the  Jews, 
the  juror  held  up  his  right  hand  towards  heaven,  which  explains  a 
passage  in  the  144th  Psalrn  ;  "  Whose  mouth  speaketh  vanity,  and 
"their  right  hand  is  a  right  hand  of  falsehood."  The  same  form 
is  retained  in  Scotland  still.  An  oath  of  fidelity  was  taken,  by  the 
servant's  putting  his  hand  under  the  thigh  of  his  lord,  as  Eleazerdid 
to  Abraham,  Gen.  xxiv.  2.;  from  whence,  with  no  great  variation, 
is  derived  perhaps  the  form  of  doing  homage  at  this  day,  by  putting 
the  hands  between  the  knees,  and  within  the  hands  of  the  liege. 

Amongst  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  the  form  varied  with  the  subject 
and  occasion  of  the  oath.  In  private  contracts,  the  parties  took 
hold  of  each  other's  hand,  whilst  they  swore  to  the  performance : 
or  they  touched  the  altar  of  the  god,  by  whose  divinity  they  swore- 
Upon  more  solemn  occasions,  it"  was  the  custom  to  slay  a  victim  : 
and  the  beast  being  struck  doicn,  with  certain  ceremonies  and  in- 
vocations, gave  birth  to  the  expression  ferire  pactum;  and  to  our 
English  phrase,  translated  from  this,  of  "striking  a  bargain." 

The  forms  of  oath  in  Christian  countries  are  also  very  different : 
but  in  none,  I  believe,  worse  contrived,  either  to  convey  the  mean- 
ing, or  impress  the  obligation  of  an  oath,  than  in  o^ur  own.  The 
juror  with  us,  after  repeating  the  promise  or  affirmation  which  the 
oath  is  intended  to  confirm,  adds,  "  So  help  me  God  :"  or  more  fre- 
quently the  substance  of  the  oath  is  repeated  to  the  juror  by  the 
officer  or  magistrate  who  administers  it,  adding  in  the  conclusion. 
"So  help  you  Go:!."  The  energy  of  the  sentence  resides  in  the  parti- 
cle so ;  so,  that  is,  hac  lege,  upon  condition  of  my  speaking  the  trutlt, 
or  performing  this  promise,  may  God  help  me,  and  not  otherwise. 
The  juror,  whilst  he  hears  or  repeats  the  words  of  the  oath,  holds 
his  right  hand  upon  a  Bible,  or  other  book  containing  the  four  Gos- 
pels. The  conclusion  of  the  oath  sometimes  runs,  "  ita  me  Deus 
•'  adjuvet,  et  Iiaec  sancta  evangelia,"  or,  "so  help  me  God,  and  the 
"  contents  of  this  book ;"  which  last  clause  forms  a  connexion  be- 
tween the  words  and  action  of  the  juror,  which  before  was  wanting. 
The  juror  then  kisses  the  book  :  the  kiss,  however,  seems  rather  an 
act  of  reverence  to  the  contents  of  the  book  (as,  in  the  popish  ritual . 

*It  is  commonly  thought  that  oaths  are  denominated  corporeal  oaths  from  tlx- 
bodily  action  which  accompanies  them,  of  laying  the  right  hand  upon  a  book  con- 
laining  the  four  Gospels.  This  opinion,  however,  appears  to  be  a  mistake  ;  for  the 
term  is  borrowed  from  the  ancient  usage  of  touching,  upon  these  occasion?,  'fr- 
forporale,  or  cloth  ivhich  covered  the  consecrated  elements. 


104  OATHS. 

the  priest  kisses  the  Gospel  before  he  reads  it)  than  any  pail  of  the 
oath. 

This  obscure  and  elliptical  form,  together  with  the  levity  and  fre- 
quency with  which  it  is  administered,  has  brought  about  a  general 
inadvertency  to  the  obligation  of  oaths ;  which  both  in  a  religious 
and  political  view,  is  much  to  be  lamented  :  and  it  merits  public 
consideration,  whether  the  requiring  of  oaths  on  so  many  frivolous 
occasions,  especially  in  the  Customs,  and  in  the  qualification  for 
petty  offices,  has  any  other  effect,  than  to  make  them  cheap  in  the 
minds  of  the  people.  A  pound  of  tea  cannot  travel  regularly  from 
the  ship  to  the  consumer,  without  costing  half  a  dozen  oaths  at 
least ;  and  the  same  security  for  the  due  discharge  of  their  office, 
namely,  that  of  an  oath,  is  required  from  a  churchwarden  and  an 
archbishop,  from  a  petty  constable  and  the  chief  justice  of  Eng- 
land. Let  the  law  continue  its  own  sanctions,  if  they  be  thought 
requisite  ;  but  let  it  spare  the  solemnity  of  an  oath.  And  wh^re  it 
is  necessary  from  the  want  of  something  better  to  depend  upon,  to 
accept  men's  own  word  or  own  account,  let  it  annex  to  prevari- 
cation penalties  proportioned  to  the  public  consequence  of  the 
offence. 

II.  But  whatever  be  the  form  of  an  oath,  the  signification  is  the 
same.     It  is  "  the  calling  upon  God  to  witness,  i.  e.  to  take  notice 
*'  of  what  we  say,"  and  "  invoking  his  vengeance,  or  renouncing 
"  his  favour,  if  what  we  say  be  false,  or  what  we  promise  be  not 
«'  performed." 

III.  Quakers  and  Moravians  refuse  to  swear  upon  any  occasion ; 
founding  their  scruples  concerning  the  lawfulness  of  oaths  upon 
our  Saviour's  prohibition,  Matt.  v.  34.  "  I  say  unto  you,  Swear  not 
"at  all." 

The  answer  which  we  give  to  this  objection  cannot  be  understood, 
without  first  stating  the  whole  passage  :  "Ye  have  heard,  that  it  hath 
"  been  said  by  them  of  old  time,  Thou  shall  not  forswear  thyself, 
"  but  shall  perform  unto  the  Lord,  thine  oaths.  But  I  say  unto  you., 
-'  Swear  not  all;  neither  by  heaven,  for  it  is  God's  throne;  nor  by 
•'the  earth,  for  it  is  his  footstool ;  neither  by  Jerusalem,  for  it  is  the 
"  city  of  the  great  King.  Neither  shalt  thou  swear  by  thy  head, 
•'because  thou  canst  not  make  one  hair  white  or  black.  But  lei 
"your  communication  be,  Yea,  yea;  Nay,  nay  :  for  whatsoever  is 
•'more  than  these,  cometh  of  evil." 

To  reconcile  with  this  passage  of  Scripture  the  practice  of  swear- 
ing, or  of  taking  oaths,  when  required  by  law,  the  following  obser 
lions  must  TJC  attended  to. 

1 .  It  does  not  appear,  that  swearing  "  by  heaven,"  "  by  the  earth,'1 
•"  by  Jerusalem,"  or  "  by  their  own  head,"  was  a  form  of  swearinp 


OATHS.  10J 

ever  made  use  of  amongst  the  Jews  in  judicial  oaths,  and  conse- 
quently, it  is  not  probable  that  they  were  judicial  oaths,  which 
Christ  had  in  his  mind  when  he  mentioned  those  instances. 

2.  As  to  the  seeming;  universality  of  the  prohibition,  "Swear  not 
"  at  all,"  the  emphatic  clause  "not  all"   is  to  be  read  in  connexion 
with  what  follows ;  "  not  at  all,"  i.  e.  neither  "  by  the  heaven,"  nor 
•'  by  the  earth,"  nor  "by  Jerusalem,"  nor  "by  thy  head  :"  "not 
;'  at  all,"  does  not  mean  upon  no  occasion,  but  by  none  of  these 
ibrms.     Our  Saviour's  argument  seems  to  suppose,  that  the  people 
to  whom  he  spake,  made  a  distinction  between  swearing  directly 
by  "  the  name  of  God,"  and  swearing  by  those  inferior  objects  of 
veneration,  "the  heavens,"  "the  earth,"   "  Jerusalem,"  or  " their 
•'  own  head."     In  opposition  to  which  distinction,  he  tells  them,  that 
on  account  of  the  relation  which  these  things  bore  to  the  Supreme 
Being,  to  swear  by  any  of  them,  was  in  effect  and  substance  to  swear 
by  him  ;  "  by  heaven,  for  it  is  his  throne ;  by  the  earth,  for  it  is  his 
"  footstool ;  by  Jerusalem,  for  it  is  the  city  of  the  great  King ;  by 
"  thy  head,  for  it  is  h  is  workmanship,  not  thine, — thou  canst  not 
"  make  one  hair  white  or  black ;"  for  which  reason  he  says,  "  Swear 
;i  not  at  all ;  that  is,  neither  directly  by  God,  nor  indirectly  by  any 
thing  related  to  him.     This  interpretration  is  greatly  confirmed  by 
a  passage  in  the  twenty-third  chapter  of  the  same  Gospel,  where  a 
similar  distinction,  made  by  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  is  replied  to 
in  the  same  manner. 

3.  Our  Saviour  himself  being  "  adjured  by  the  living  God,"  to 
declare  whether  he  was  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  or  not,  conde- 
scended to  answer  the  high-priest,  without  making  any  objection  to 
the  oath  (for  such  it  was)  upon  which  he  examined  him. — "  God  is 
•l  my  witness,"  says  St.  Paul  to  the  Romans,  "that  without  ceasing 
*•  I  make  mention  of  you  in  my  prayers:"  and  to  the  Corinthians 
still  more  strongly.  "I  call  God  for  a  record  upon  my  soul,  that,  to 
spare  you,   I  carne  not  as  yet  to  Corinth- "     Both  these  expres- 
sions contain  the  nature  of  oaths.     The  epistle  to  the  Hebrews 
speaks  of  the  custom  of  swearing  judicially,  without  any  mark  of 
censure  or  disapprobation  :  "Men  verily  swear  by  the  greater ;  and 
•;  an  oath,  for  confirmation,  is  to  them  an  end  of  all  strife." 

Upon  the  strength  of  these  reasons,  we  explain  our  Saviour's 
words  to  relate,  not  to  judicial  oaths,  but  to  the  practice  of  vain 
wanton  and  unauthorized  swearing,  in  common  discourse.  St. 
James's  words,  chapter  v.  12.  are  not  so  strong  as  our  Saviour's  and 
therefore  admit  the  same  explanation  with  more  ease. 

IV.  Oaths  are  nugatory,  that  is,  carry  with  them  no  proper  force 
or  obligation,  unless  we  believe  that  God  will  punish  false  swearing 
10 


106  OATHS, 

with  more  severity  than  a  simple  lie,  or  breach  of  promise ;  fur 
which  belief  there  are  the  following  reasons : — 

1.  Perjury  is  a  sin  of  greater  deliberation.     The  juror  has,  I  be- 
lieve, in  fact,'  the  thoughts  of  God  and  of  religion  xipon  his  mind  at 
the  time  ;  at  least,  there  are  very  few  who  can  shake  them  off  en- 
tirely.    He  offends,  therefore  if  he  do  offend,  with  a  high  hand  ;  in 
the  face,  that  is,  and  in  defiance  of  the  sanctions  of  religion.     His 
offence  implies  a  disbelief  or  contempt  of  God's  knowledge,  power. 
and  justice ;  which  cannot  be  said  of  a  lie  where  there  is  nothing  to 
carry  the  mind  to  any  reflection  upon  the  Deity,  or  the  divine  attri- 
butes at  all. 

2.  Perjury  violates  a  superior  confidence.  Mankind  must  trust  to 
one  another ;  and  they  have  nothing  better  to  trust  to  than  one  an- 
other's oath.     Hence  legal  adjudications,  which  govern  and  affect 
every  right  and  interest  on  this  side  of  the  grave,  of  necessity  pro- 
ceed and  depend  upon  oaths.     Perjury,   therefore,  in  its  general 
consequence,  strikes  at  the  security  of  reputation,  property,  and 
even  of  life  itself.     A  lie  cannot  do  the  same  mischief,  because  the 
same  credit  is  not  given  to  it.* 

3.  God  directed  the  Israelites  to  swear  by  his  name  ;f  and  was 
pleased,  "in  order  to  show  the  immutability  of  his  own  counsel, "t 
to   confirm  his  covenant  with  that  people  by  an  oath ;  neither  of 
which  it  is  probable  he  would  have  done,  had   he  not  intended  to 
represent  oaths  as  having  some  meaning  and  effect  beyond  the  ob- 
ligation of  a  bare  promise  ;  which  effect  must  be  owing  to  the  se- 
verer punishment  with  which  he  will  vindicate  the  authority  of  oaths. 

V.  Promissory  oaths  are  <not  binding,  where  the  promise  itself 
would  not  be  so  :  for  the  several  cases  of  which,  see  the  Chapter 
of  Promises. 

VI.  As  paths  arc  designed  for  the  security  of  the  imposer;  it  is 
manifest  they  must  be  performed  and  interpreted  in  tho  sense  in 
which  the  imposer  intends  them  ;  otherwise  they  afford  no  security 
to  him.     And  this  is  the  meaning  and  reason  of  the  rule  "  jurarc 
in  animum  imponentis  ;"  which  rule  the  reader  is  desired  to  carry 
along  with  him,  whilst  we  proceed  to  consider  certain   particular 
oaths,  which  are  either  of  greater  importance,  or  more  likely  to  fall 

in  our  way,  than  others. 

. 

*Except,  indeed,  where  a  Quaker's  or  Moravian's  affirmation  is  accepted  in  the 
place  of  an  oath  ;  in  which  case,  a  lie  partakes,  so  far  as  this  reason  extends,  of  the 
nature  and  guilt  of  perjury. 

fDeut.  vi.  13.    x.  20.  Jlleb.  vi.  17, 


OATH   IN   EVIDENCE.  101 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

OATH  IN  EVIDENCE. 

THE  witness  swears  "to  speak  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and 
•\nothing  but  the  truth,  touching'  the  matter  in  question." 

Upon  which  it  may.  be  observed,  that  the  designed  concealment 
of  any  truth,  which  relates  to  the  matter  in  agitation,  is  as  much  a 
violation  of  the  oath,  as  to  testify  a  positive  falsehood  ;  and  this 
whether  the  witness  be  interrogated  to  that  particular  point  or  not. 
For  when  the  person  to  be  examined,  is  sworn  upon  a  voir  dire, 
that  is,  in  order  to  inquire,  whether  he  ought  to  be  admitted  to  give 
evidence  in  the  cause  at  all,  the  form  runs  thus :  "  You  shall  true 
"  answer  make  to  all  such  questions  as  shall  be  asked  you  :"  But 
when  he  comes  to  be  s"worn  in  chief,  he  swears  "•  to  speak  the  whole 
"truth,"  without  restraining  it,  asbefpre,  to  the  questions  that  shall 
be  asked  :  which  difference  shows,  that  the  law  intends,  in  this  lat- 
t'er  case,  to  require  of  the  witness,  that  he  give  a  complete  and  unre- 
served account  of  what  he  knows  of  the  subject  of  the  trial,  whether 
1  he  questions  proposed  to  him  reach  the  extent  of  his  knowledge  or 
not.  So  that  if  it  be  inquired  of  the  witness  afterwards,  why  he 
did  not  inform  the  court  so  and  so,  it  is  not  sufficient,  though  a  very 
common  answer,  to  say,  "  because,  it  was  never  asked  me." 

I  know  but  one  exception  to  this  rule ;  which  is,  when  a  full  dis- 
covery of  the  truth  tends  to  accuse  the  witness  himself  of  some  le- 
gal crime.  The  law  of  England  constrains  no  man  to  become  his 
own  accuser ;  consequently  imposes  the  oath  of  testimony  with  this 
tacit  reservation.  But  the  exception  must  be  confined*  to  legal 
crimes.  A  point  of  honour,  of  delicacy,  or  of  r^utation,  may 
make  a  witness  backward  to  dis€lose  some  circumstance  with  which 
he  is  acquainted ;  but  is  no  excuse'for  concealment,  unless  it  could 
be  shown  that  the  law  which  imposes  the  oath,  intended  to  allow 
this  indulgence  to  such  motives.  The  exception  is  also  withdrawn 
by  a  compact  between  the  magistrate  and  the  witness,  when  an  ac- 
complice is  admitted  to  give  evidence  against  the  partners  of  his 
crime. 

Tenderness  to  the  prisoner  is  a  specious  apology  for  concealment, 
but  no  just  excuse :  for  if  this  plea  be  thought  sufficient,  it  takes 
the  administration  of  penal  justice  out  of  the  hands  of  judges  and 
juries,  and  makes  it  depend  upon  the  temper  of  prosecutors  and 
witnesses. 

Questions  may  be  asked,  which  are  irrelative  to  the  cause,  which 
affect  the  witness  himself,  or  some  third  person ;  in  which',  and  in 


108  OATH   OP  ALLEGIANCE. 

all  cases  where  the  witness  doubts  of  the  pertinency  and  propriety  of 
the  question,  he  ought  to  refer  his  doubts  to  the  court.  The  answer 
of  the  court,  in  relaxation  of  the  oath,  is  authority  enough  to  the 
witness ;  for  the  law  which  imposes  the  oath,  may  remit  what  ii 
will  of  the  obligation ;  and  rt  belongs  to  the  court  to  declare  what 
the  mind  of  the  law  is.  Nevertheless,  it  cannot  be  said  univer- 
sally, that  the  answer  of  the  court  is  conclusive  upon  the  con- 
science of  the  witness ;  for  his  obligation  depends  upon  what  he 
apprehended',  at  the  time  of  taking  the  oath,  to  be  the  design  of  the 
law  in  imposing  it,  and  no  -after-requisition  or  explanation  by  the 
court  can  carry  the  obligation  beyond  that. 


CHAPTER  XVZXZ. 

OATH  OF  ALLEGIANCE. 

"  I  DO  sincerely  promise  and  swear  that  I-  will  be  faithful  and 
•'bear  true  allegiance  to  his-  Majesty  King  GEORGE."  Formerly 
the  oath  of  allegiance  ran  thus  :  "  I  do  promise  to  be  true  and  faith- 
"  ful  to  the  King,  and  his  heirs,  and  truth  and  faith  to  bear,  of  life 
a  and  limb,  and  terrene  honour;  and  not  to  know  or  hear  of  any 
"ill  or  damage  intended  him,  without  defending  him  therefrom;" 
and  was  altered  at  the  Revolution  to  the  present  form.  So  that  the 
present  oath  is  a  relaxation  of  the  old  one.  And  as  the  oath  was 
intended  to  ascertain  not  so  much  the  extent  of  the  subject's  obe- 
dience, as.  to  whom  it  was  due,  the  legislature  seems  to  have  wrap- 
ped up  its  meaning  upon  the  former  point,  in  a  word  purposely 
made  choice  of  for  its  general  and  indeterminate  signification. 

It  will  be  most  convenient  to  consider,  first,  what  the  oath  ex- 
cludes, as  incqnsistent  with  it ;  secondly,  what  it  permits. 

1.  The  oath  excludes  all  intention  to  support  the  claim  or  pre- 
tensions of  any  other  person  or  persons  than  the  reigning  sovereign, 
to  the  crown  and  government.     A  Jacobite,   who  is  persuaded  oi 
the  pretender's  right  to  the  crown,  and  who,  moreover,  designs  to 
join  with  the  adherents  of  that  cause  to  assert  this  right,  whenever 
a  proper  opportunity,  with  a  reasonable  prospect  of  success  pre- 
sents itself,  cannot  take  the  oath  of  allegiance;  or,  if  he  could,  the 
oath  of  abjuration  follows,  which  contains  an  express  renunciation 
of  all  opinions  in  favour  of  the  claim  of  the  exiled  family. 

2.  The  oath  excludes  all  design,  at  the  time,  of  attempting  to 
depose  the  reigning  prince,  for  any  reason  whatever.     Let  the  jus- 
tice of  the  Revolution  be  what  it  would,  no  honest  man  could  have 


OATH   OF   ALLEGIANCE.  109 

taken  even  the  present  oath  of  allegiance  to  James  the  Second, 
who  entertained  at  the  time  of  taking  it,  a  design  of  joining  in  the 
measures  that  were  entered 'into  to  dethrone  him. 

3.  The  oath  forbids  the  taking  up  of  arms  against  the  reigning 
prince,  with  views  of  private  advancement,  or.  from  motives  of  per- 
sonal resentment  or  dislike.  It  is  possible  to  happen  in  .this,  what 
frequently  happens  in  despotic  governments,  that  an  ambitious  gen- 
eral, at  the  head  of  the  military  force  of  the  nation,  by  a  conjunc- 
ture of  fortunate  circumstances,  and  a  great  ascendency  over  the 
minds  of  the  soldiery,  might  depose  the  prince  upon  the  throne, 
and  make  way  to  it  for  himself,  or  for  some  creature  of  his  own.  A 
person  in  this  situation  would  be  withheld  from  such  an  attempt  by 
the  oath  of  allegiance,  if  he  paid  any  regard  to  it.  If  there  were 
any  who  engaged  in  the  rebellion  of  the  year  forty-five,  with  the 
expectation  of  titles,  estates,  or  preferment ;  or  because  they  were 
disappointed,  and  thought  themselves  neglected  and  ill-used  at 
court:  or  because  they  entertained  a  family  animosity,  or  personal 
resentment  against  the  king,  the  favourite,  or  the  minister; — If 
they  were  induced  to  take  up  arms  by  these  motives,  they  added  to 
the  many  crimes  of  an  unprovoked  rebellion,  that  of  wilful  and 
corrupt  perjury.  If  the  same  motives  determined  others,  lately,  to 
connect  themselves  with  the  American  opposition,  their  part  in  it 
was  chargeable  with  perfidy  and  falsehood  to  their  oath,  whatever 
was  the  justice  of  the  opposition  itself,  or  however  well  founded 
their  particular  complaint  might  be  of  private  injuries. 

We  are  next  to  consider  what  the  oath  of  allegiance  permits,  or 
does  not  require. 

1.  It  permits  resistance  to  the  king,  when  his  ill  behaviour  or 
imbecility  is  such  as  to  make  resistance  beneficial  to  the  commu- 
nity.    It  may  fairly  be  presumed,  that  the  Convention  Parliament, 
which  introduced  the  oath  in  its  present  form,  did  not  intend,  by 
imposing  it,  to  exclude  all  resistance,  since  the  members  of  that 
legislature  had  many  of  them  recently  taken  up  arms  against  James 
the  Second,  and  the  very  authority  by  which  they  sat  together  was 
itself  the   effect  of  a  successful  opposition  to  an  acknowledged 
sovereign.     Some  resistance,  therefore,  was  meant  to  be  allowed ; 
and  if  any,  it  must  be  that  which  has  the  public  interest  for  its 
object. 

2.  The  oath  does  not  require  obedience  to  such  commands  of  the 
king  as  are  unauthorized  by  law.    No  such  obedience  is  implied  by 
the  terms  of  the  oath ;  the  fidelity  there  promised,  is  intended  of 
fidelity  in  opposition  to  his  enemies,  and  not  in  opposition  to  law ; 
and  allegianee,  at  the  utmost,  signifies  only  obedience  to  lawful 

10* 


110  OATH   AGAINST     BRIBERY. 

commands.     Therefore,  if  the  king-  should  issue  a  proclamation-' 
levying-  money,  or  imposing  any  service  or  restraint  upon  the  sub- 
ject, beyond  what  the  crown  is  empowered  by  law  to  enjoin,  there 
would  exist  no  sort  of  obligation  to  obey  such  a  proclamation  in 
consequence  of  having  taken  the  oath  of  allegiance. 

3.  The  path  does  not  require  that  we  should  continue  our  alle- 
giance to  the  king,  after  he  is  actually  and  absolutely  deposed, 
driven  into  exile,  carried  away  captive,  or  otherwise  rendered  in- 
capable of  exercising  the  regal  office.  The  promise  of  allegiance 
implies,  and  is  understood  by  all  parties  to  suppose,  that  the  person 
to  whom  the  promise  is  made  continues  king ;  continues,  that  is,  to 
exercise  the  power,  and  afford  the  protection,  which  belong  to  the 
office  of  king;  for,  it  is  the  possession  of  this  power,  which  makes 
such  a  particular  person  the  object  of  the  oath ;  without  it,  why- 
should  I  swear  allegiance  to  this  man  rather  than  to  any  other  man 
in  the  kingdom  ?  Besides,  the  contrary  doctrine  is  burthened  with 
this  consequence,  that  every  conquest,  revolution  of  government.* 
or  disaster  which  befals  the  person  of  the  prince,  must  be  followed 
by  public  and  perpetual  anarchy. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

OATH  AGAINST  BRIBERY  IN  THE  ELECTION  OF  MEMBERS 
OF  PARLIAMENT. 

"I  DO  swear,  I  have  not  received,  or  had,  by  myself,  or  any 
;<  person  whatsoever  in  trust  for  me,  or  for  my  use  and  benefit,  di- 
"  rectly  or  indirectly,  any  sum  or  sums  of  money,  office,  place,  or 
'•'  employment,  gift,  or  reward ;  or  any  promise  or  security,  for  any 
"  money,  office,  employment,  or  gift,  in  order  to  give  my  vote  at 
"  this  election." 

The  several  contrivances  to  evade  this  oath,  such  as  the  electors 
accepting  money  under  colour  of  borrowing,  and  giving  a  promis- 
sory note,  or  other  security,  for  it,  which  is  cancelled  after  the  elec- 
tion ;  receiving  money  from  a  stranger,  or  a  person  in  disguise,  on 
out  of  drawer,  or  a  purse,  left  open  for  the  purpose ;  or  promises 
of  money  to  be  paid  after  the  election ;  or  stipulating  for  a  place, 
living,  or  other  private  advantage  of  any  kind ;  if  they  escape  the 
legal  penalties  of  perjury,  incur  the  moral  guilt :  for  they  are  ma- 
nifestly within  the  mischief  and  design  of  the  statute  which  impo- 
ses the  oath,  and  within  the  terms  indeed  of  the  oath  itself;  for  the 
vrord  "indirectly"  is  inserted  on  purpose  to  comprehend  such  cases 
as  these 


OATH   AGAINST  SIMOM". 


CHAPTER  XX. 

OATH  AGAINST  SIMOXY. 

•  FROM  an  imaginary  resemblance  between  the  purchase  of  a  be 
nefice  and  Simon  Magus'  attempt  to  purchase  the  gift  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  (Acts  viii.  19)  the  obtaining  of  a,  presentation  .by  pecuniary 
considerations  has  been  called  Simony. 

The  sale  of  advowsons  is  inseparable  from  the  right  of  private 
patronage  ;  as  patronage  would  otherwise  devolve  to  the  most  in- 
digent, and  for  that  reason  the  most  improper  hands  it  could  be 
placed  in.  Nor  did  the  law  ever  intend  to  prohibit  the  passing  ol 
advowsons  from  one  patron  to  another;  but  to  restrain  the  patron  . 
who  possesses  the  right  of  presenting  at  the  vacancy,  from  being 
influenced  in  the  choice  of  his  presentee,  by  a  bribe,  or  benefit  to 
himself.  It  is  the  .same  distinction  with  that  which  obtains  in  a 
freeholder's  vote  for  his  representative  in  parliament.  The  right 
of  voting,  that  is,  the  freehold  to  which  the  right  pertains,  may  be 
bought  and  sold  as  freely  as  any  other  property;  but  the  exercise 
of  that  right,  the  vote  itself,  may  not  be  purchased,  or  influenced 
by  money. 

For  this  purpose  the  law  imposes  upon  the  presentee,  who  is 
generally  concerned  in  the  simony,  if  there  be  any,  the  following 
oath :  "  I  do  swear,-  that  I  have  made  no  simoniacal  payment,  con  - 
•;  tract,  or  promise,  directly  or  indirectly,"  by  myself,  or  by  any 
"  other  to  my  knowledge,  or  with  my  consent,  to  anv  person  or 
"  persons  whatsoever,  for  or  concerning  the  procuring  and  obtain- 
•;  ing  of  this  ecclesiastical  place,  &c. ;  nor  will,  at  any  time  hereaf 
"  ter,  perform,  or  satisfy,  any  such  kind  of  payment,  contract,  or 
"promise,  made  by  any  other  without  my  knowledge  or  consent : 
:'  So  help  me  God,  through  Jesus  Christ." 

It  is  extraordinary  that  Bishop  Gibson  should  have  thought  this 
oath  to  be  against  all  promises  whatsoever,  when  the  terms  of  the 
oath  expressly  restrain  it  to  simoniacal  promises;  and  the  law 
alone  must  pronounce  what  promises,  as  well  as  what  payments 
and  contracts  are  simoniacal,  and  consequently  come  within  the 
oath ;  and  what  are  not  so. 

Now  the  law  adjudges  to  be  simony, 

1.  All  payments,  contracts,  or  promises,  made  by  any  person  for 
a  benefice  already  vacant.  The  advowson  of  a  void  turn,  by  law. 
eannct  be  transferred  from  one  patron  to  another;  therefore,  if  the 
void  turn  be  procured  by  money,  it  must.be  by  a  pecuniary  influ- 


1  OATH  AGAINST   SIMON5T, 

cnce  upon  the  then  subsisting  patron  in  the  choice  of  his  presentee, 
which  is  the  very  practice  the  Jaw  condemns. 

2.  A  clergyman's  purchasing-  of  the  rtcxt  turn  of  a  benefice  for 
himself,  "directly  or  indirectly,"  that  is,  by  himself,  or  by  another 
person  with  his  money.     It  does  not  appear  that  the  law  prohibits 
a  clergyman  from  purchasing  the  perpetuity  of  a  patronage,  more 
than  any  other  person:  but  purchasing  the  perpetuity,  and  forth- 
with selling  it  again,  with  a  reservation  of  the  next  turn,  and  with 
no  other  design  than  to  possess  himself  of  the  next  turn,  is  infrau- 
<lem  Icgis,  and  inconsistent  with  the  oath. 

3.  The  procuring  of  a  piece  of  preferment,  by  ceding  to  the  pa- 
tron any  rights,  or  probable  rights,  belonging  to  it.  This  is  simony 
of  the  worst  kind  ;   for  it  is  not  only  buying  preferment,  but  rob- 
bing your  successor  to  pay  for  it. 

4.  Promises  to  the  patron  of  a  portion  of  the  profit,  of  a  remis- 
sion of  tithes  and  dues,  or  other  advantages  out  of  the  produce  of 
the  benefice  :  which  kind  of  compact  is  a  pernicious  condescension 
in  the  clergy,  independent  of  the  oath ;  for  it  tends  to  introduce  a 
practice,  which  jnay  very  soon  become  general,  of  giving  the  reve- 
nues of  churches  to  the  lay  patrons,  and  supplying  the  duty  by  in- 
digent stipendiaries. 

5.  G  eneral  bonds  of  resignation,  that  is,  bonds  to  resign  upon 
demand. 

I  doubt  not  but  that  the  oath  is  binding  upon  the  consciences  of 
those  who  take  it,  though  I  question  much  the  expediency  of  requi- 
ring it.  It  is  very  fit  to  debar  public  patrons,  such  as  the  king,  the 
lord  chancellor,  bishops,  ecclesiastial  corporations,  and  the  like, 
from  this  kind  of  traffic  :  because  frorti  them  may  be  expected  some 
regard  to  the  qualifications  of  the  persons  whom  they  promote.  Bui 
the  oath  lays  a  snare  for  the  integrity  of  the  clergy  ;  and  I  do  not 
perceive,  that  the  requiring  of  it  in  cases  of  private  patronage  pro- 
duces any  good  effect  sufficient  to  compensate  for  this  danger. 

Where  advowsons  are  holden  along  with  manors,  or  other  prin 
cipal  estates,  it  would  be  an  easy  regulation  to  forbid  that  thej 
should  ever  hereafter  be  separated;  and  would  at  least  keep  church- 
preferment  out  of  the  hands  of  brokers. 


OATHS    TO   OBSERVE    LOCAL    STATUTES., 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

OATHS  TO  OBSERVE  LOCAL  STATUTES. 

MEMBERS  of  colleges  in  the  Universities,  and  of  other  ancient 
foundations,  are  required  to  swear  to  the  observance  of  their  respec- 
tive statutes  :  which  observance  is  become  in  some  cases  unlawful^ 
in  others  impracticable,  in  others  use-less,  in  others  inconvenient. 

Unlawful  directions  are  countermanded  by  the  authority  which 
made  them  unlawful. 

Impracticable  directions  are  dispensed  with  by  the  necesity  of  the 
case. 

The  only  question  is,  how  far  the  members  of  these  societies 
may  take  upon  themselves  to  judge  of  the  inionveniency  of  any  par- 
ticular direction,  and  make  that  a  reason  for  laying  aside  the  obser- 
vation of  it. 

The  animus  imponentis,  which  is  the  measure  of  the  juror's  duty, 
seems  to  be  satisfied,  when  nothing  is  ommitted,  but  what,  from 
some  change  in  the  reason  and  circumstances  under  which  it  was 
prescribed,  it  may  fairly  be  presumed  that  the  founder  himself  would 
have  dispensed  with. 

To  bring  a  case  within  this  rule,  the  inconveniency  must, 

1.  Be  manifest;  concerning  which  there  is  no  doubt. 

2.  It  must  arise  from  some,  change  in  the  circumstances  of  the 
institution  :  for,  let  the  inconveniency  be  what  it  will,  if  it  existed 
at  the  time  of  the  foundation,  it  must  be  presumed  that  the  founder 
did  not  deem  the  avoiding  of  it,  of  sufficient  importance  to  alter  his 
plan. 

3.  It  must  not  only  be  inconvenient  in  the  general  (for  so  may 
the  institution  itself  be)  but  prejudicial  to  the  particular  end  pro- 
posed by  the  institution ;  for  it  is  this  last  circumstance  which  proves 
that  the  founder  would  have  dispensed  with  it  in  pursuance  of  his 
own  purpose. 

The  statutes  of  some  colleges  forbid  the  speaking  of  any  language 
but  Latin  within  the  walls  of  the  college ;  direct  that  a  certain  num- 
ber, and  not  fewer  than  that  number,  be  allowed  the  use  of  an 
apartment  amongst  them  ;  that  so  many  hours  of  each  day  be  em- 
ployed in  public  exercises,  lectures,  or  disputations ;  and  some  other 
articles  of  discipline,  adapted  to  the  tender  years  of  the  students  who 
in  former  times  resorted  to  universities.  Were  colleges  to  retain 
such  rules,  nobody  now-a-days  would  come  near  them.  They  arc 
laid  aside  therefore,  though  parts  of  the  statutes,  and  as  such  inclu- 
ded within  the  oath,  not  merely  because  they  are  inconvenient,  but 


ARTICLES   or 

because  there  is  sufficient  reason  to  believe,  that  the  founders  them 
selves  would  have  dispensed  with  them  as  subversive  of  their  own 
designs. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

SUBSCRIPTION  "TO  ARTICLES  OF  RELIGION  . 

SUBSCRIPTION  to  articles  of  religion,  though  no  more  than  a  de- 
claration to  the  subscriber's  assent,  may  properly  enough  be  consi- 
dered in  connexion  with  the  subject  of  oaths,  because  it  is  govern- 
ed by  the  same  rule  of  interpretation  : 

Which  rule  is  the  animus  imponentis. 

The  inquiry,  therefore,  concerning  subscription  will  be,  quit -im- 
posuit,  et  quo  animo  ? 

The  bishop  who  receives  the  subscription  is  not  the  imposer,  any 
more  than  the  cryer  of  a  court,  who  administers  the  oath  to  the  ju- 
ry and  witnesses,  is  the  person  that  imposes  it ;  nor,  consequently, 
is  the  private  opinion  or  interpretation  of  the  bishop  of  any  signifi- 
cation to  the  subscriber,  one  way  or  the  other. 

The  compilers  of  the  Thirty-nine  Articles  are  not  to  be  consid- 
ered as  the  imposers  of  subscription,  any  more  than  the  framer  or 
drawer  up  of  a  law  is  the  person  that  enacts  it. 

The  legislature  of  the  13th  Eliz.  is  the  imposer,  whose  intention 
the  subscriber  is  bound  to  satisfy. 

They  who  contend,  that  nothing  less  can  justify  subscription  to  the 
Thirty-nine  Articles,  than  the  actual  belief  of  each  and  every  sepa- 
rate propsition  contained  in  them,  must  suppose,  that  the  legisla- 
ture expected  the  consent  of  ten  thousand  men,  and  that  in  perpe- 
tual succession,  not  to  one  controverted  proposition,  but  to  many 
hundreds.  It  is  difficult  to  conceive  how  this  could  be  expected  by 
any  who  observed  the  incurable  diversity  of  human  opinion  upon 
all  subjects  short  of  demonstration. 

If  the  authors  of  the  law  did  not  intend  this,  what  did  they  in- 
lend? 

They  intended  to  exclude  from  offices  in  the  church, 

1.  All  abettors  of  Popery  : 

2.  Anabaptists,  who  were  at  that  time  a  powerful  party  on  the 
Continent : 

3.  The  Puritans,  who  were  hostile  to  the  episcopal  constitution  : 
;md  in  general  the  members  of  such  leading  sects,  or  foreign  esta- 
blishments, as  threatened  to  overthrow  our  own.    « 


Whoever  finds  himself  comprehended  within  these  descriptions, 
ought  not  to  subscribe. 

During  the  present  state  of  ecclesiastical  patronage,  in  which  pri- 
vate individuals  are  permitted  to  impose  teachers  upon  parishes,  with 
which  they  are  often  little  or  not  at  all  connected,  some  limitation 
of  the  patron's  choice  may  be  necessary,  to  prevent  unedifying  con- 
tentions between  neighbouring  teachers,  or  between  the  teachers 
and  their  respective  congregations.  But  this  danger,  if  it  exist, 
may  be  provided  against  with  equal  effect,  by  converting  the  arti- 
cles of  faith  into  articles  of  peace. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 


THE  fundamental  question  upon  this  subject  is,  Whether  wills  are 
of  natural  or  of  adventitious  right  ?  that  is,  whether  the  right  of  di- 
recting the  disposition  of  property  after  his  death  belongs  to  a  man 
in  a  state  of  nature,  and  by  the  law  of  nature  ;  or  whether  it  be 
given  him  entirely  by  the  positive  regulations  of  the  country  he 
lives  in  ? 

The  immediate  produce  of  each  man's  personal  labour,  as  the 
tools,  weapons,  and  utensils  which  he  "manufactures,  the  tent  or  hut 
he  builds,  and  perhaps  the  flocks  and  herds  which  he  breeds  and 
rears,  are  as  much  his  own  as  the  labour  was  which  he  employed 
upon  them ;  that  is,  are  his  property  naturally  and  absolutely,  and 
consequently  he  may  give  or  leave  them  to  whom  he  pleases,  there- 
being  nothing  to  limit  the  continuance  of  his  right,  or  to  restrain  the 
alienation  of  it. 

But  every  other  species  of  property,  especially  property  in  land, 
stands  upon  a  different  foundation. 

We  have  seen,  in  the  Chapter  upon  Property,  that  in  a  state  of 
nature,  a  man's  right  to  a  particular  spot  of  ground  arises  from  his 
using  it,  and  wanting  it;  consequently  ceases  with  the  use  and 
want :  so  that  at  his  death  the  estate  reverts  to  the  community, 
without  any  regard  to  the  last  owner's  will,  or  even  any  preference 
of  his  famity,  further  than  as  they  become  the  first  occupiers  aftcr 
him  and  succeed  to  the  same  want  and  use. 

Moreover,  as  natural  rights  cannot,  like  rights  created  by  act  of 
parliament,  expire  at  the  end  of  a  certain  number  of  years,  if  tho 
testator  have  a  right,  by  the  law  of  nature,  to  dispose  of  his  proper- 


116  witts. 

ty  One  moment  after  his  death,  he  has  the  same  right  to  direct  the 
disposition  of  it,  for  a  million  of  ages  after  him ;  which  is  absurd. 

The  ancient  apprehensions  of  mankind  upon  the  subject  were 
conformable  to  this  account  of  it :  for  wills  have  been  introduced 
into  most  countries  by  a  positive  act  of  the  state  ;  as  by  the  Laws  ot 
Solon  into  Greece  :  by  the  Twelve  Tables  into  Rome  ;  and  that 
not  till  after  a  considerable  progress  had  been  made  in  legislation, 
and  in  the  economy  of  civil  life.  Tacitus  relates,  that  amongst  the 
Germans  they  were  disallowed ;  and  what  is  more  remarkable,  since 
the  Conquest,  lands  in  this  country  could  not  be  devised  by  will, 
till  within  little  more  than  two  hundred  years  ago,  when  this  privi- 
lege was  restored  to  the  subject,  by  an  act  of  parliament,  in  the 
latter  end  of  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth. 

No  doubt,  many  beneficial  purposes  are  attained  by  extending  the 
owner's  power  over  his  property  beyond  his  life,  and  beyond  his  na- 
tural right.  It  invites  to  industry ;  it  encourages  marriage  ;  it  se- 
cures the  dutifulness  and  dependency  of  children :  but  a  limit  must 
be  assigned  to  the  duration  of  this  power.  The  utmost  extent  to 
which,  in  any  case,  entails  are  allowed  by  the  laws  of  England  to 
operate,  is  during  the  lives  in  existence  at  the  death  of  the  testator, 
and  one  and  twenty  years  beyond  these ;  after  which,  there  are 
ways  and  means  of  setting  them  aside. 

From  the  consideration  that  wills  are  the  creatures  of  the  muni- 
cipal law  which  gives  them  their  efficacy,  may  be  deduced  a  de- 
termination of  the  question,  whether  the  intention  of  the  testator 
in  an  informal  will,  be  binding  upon  the  conscience  of  those  who 
by  operation  of  law,  succeed  to  his  estate.  By  an  informal  will,  I 
mean  a  will  void  in  law,  for  want  of  some  requisite  formality,  though 
no  doubt  be  entertained  of  its  meaning  or  authenticity  :  as,  suppose 
a  man  make  his  will,  devising  his  freehold  estate  to  his  sister's  son, 
and  the  will  be  attested  by  two  only,  instead  of  three  subscribing 
witnesses;  would  the  brother's  son,  who  is  heir  at  law  to  the  testa- 
tor, be  bound  in  conscience  to  resign  his  claim  to  the  estate,  out 
of  deference  to  his  uncle's  intention?  or,  on  the  contrary,  would 
not  the  devisee  under  the  will  be  bound,  upon  discovery  of  this  flaw 
in  it  to  surrender  the  estate,  suppose  he  had  gained  possession  of  it, 
to  the  heir  at  law  ? 

Generally  speaking,  the  heir  at  law  is  not  bound  by  the  inten- 
tion of  the  testator;  for,  the  intention  can  signify  nothing,  unless 
the  person  intending  have  a  right  to  govern  the  descent  of  the  es- 
tate. That  is  the  first  question.  Now  this  right  the  testator  can 
only  derive  from  the  law  of  the  land  :  but  the  law  confers  the  right 
upon  certain  conditions,  which  conditions  he  has  not  complied 


•tvith;  therefore,  the  testator  can  lay  no  claim  to  the  power  which  he 
pretends  to  exercise,  as  he  hath  not  entitled  himself  to  the  benefit 
of  that  law,  bv  virtue  of  which  alone  the  estate  ought  to  attend  his 
disposal.  Consequently,  the  devisee  under  the  will,  who,  by  con- 
cealing this  flaw  in  it,  keeps  possession  of  the  estate,  is  in  the  sit- 
uation of  any  other  person,  who  avails  himself  of  his  neighbour's 
ignorance  to  detain  from  him  his  property.  The  will  is  so  mucli 
v/aste  paper,  from  the  defect  of  right  in  the  person  who  made  it. 
Nor  is  this  catching  at  an  expression  of  law  to  pervert  the  sub- 
stantial design  of  it :  for  I  apprehend  it  to  be  the  deliberate  mind  of 
the  legislature,  that  no  will  should  take  effect  upon  real  estates, 
unless  authenticated  in  the  precise  manner  which  the  statute  de- 
scribes. Had  testamentary  dispositions  been  founded  in  any  nat- 
ural right,  independent  of  positive  constitutions,  I  should  have 
thought  differently  of  this  question  :  for  then  I  should  have  consider- 
ed the  law  rather  as  refusing  its  assistance  to  enforce  the  right  of 
the  devisee,  than  as 'extinguishing  or  working  any  alteration  in  the 
right  itself.' 

And  after  all,  I  shotild  choose  to  propose  a  case,  where  no  con- 
sideration of  pity  to  distress,  of  duty  to  a  parent,  or  of  gratitude  to  a 
benefactor,  interfered  with  the  general  rule  of  justict 

The  regard  due  to  kindred  in  the  disposal  of  our  fortune,  (except 
the  case  of  lineal  kindred,  which  is  different,)  arises  either,  from 
•the  respect  we  owe  to  the  presumed  intention  of  the  ancestor  from 
whom  we  received  our  fortunes,  or  from  the  expectations  which 
"we  have  encouraged.  The  intention  of  the  ancestor  is  presumed 
with  greater  certainty,  as  well  as  entitled  to  more  respect,  the 
fewer  degrees  he  is  removed  from  us  ;  which  makes  the  difference 
m  the  different  degrees  of  kindred.  It  may  be  presumed  to  be  a 
father's  intention  and  desire,  that  the  inheritance  he  leaves,  after  it 
has  served  the  turn  and  generation  of  one  son,  should  remain  a 
provision  for  the  families  of  his  other  children,  equally  related  and 
dear  to  him  as  the  eldest.  Whoever,  therefore,  without  cause, 
•gives  away  his  patrimony  from  his  brother's  or  sister's  family,  is 
guilty  not  so  rrtoch  of  an  injury  to  them,  as  of  ingratitude  to  his 
parent.  The  deference  due  from  the  possessor  of  a  fortune  to  the 
presumed  desire  of  his  ancestor,  will  also  vary  with  this  circum- 
stance, whether  the  ancestor  earned  the  fortune  by  his  personal  in- 
dustry, acquired  it  by  accidental  success,  or  only  transmitted  the 
inheritance  which  he  received. 

Where  a  man's  fortune  is  acquired  by  himself,  and  he  has  done 
.  nothing  to  excite  expectation,  but  rather  has  refrained  from  those 
^articular  attentions  which  tend  to  cherish  expectation,  he  is  per- 
11 


11$  WtlLS, 

fectly  disengaged  from  the  force  of  the  above  reasons,  and  at  lit.'- 
erty  to  leave  his  fortune  to  his  friends,  to  charitable  or  public  par- 
poses,  or  to  whom  he  will :  the  same  blood,  proximity  of  blood,  and 
the  like,  are  merely  modes  of  speech,  implying  nothing  real,  nor 
any  obligation  of  themselves. 

There  is  always,  however,  a  reason  for  providing  for  our  poot 
relations,  in  preference  to  others  who  may  be  equally  necessitous, 
which  is,  that  if  we  do  not,  no  one  else  will ;  mankind,  by  an  es- 
tablished consent,  leaving  the  reduced  branches  of  good  families  to 
the  bounty  of  their  wealthy  alliances, 

The  not  making  a  will,  is  a  very  culpable  omission,  where  it  is 
attended  with  the  following  effects :  where  it  leaves  daughters,  or 
younger  children,  at  the  mercy  of  the  eldest  son  ;  where  it  distri- 
butes a  personal  fortune  equally  amongst  the  children,  although 
there  be  no  equality  in  their  exigence  or  situations  ;  where  it  leave> 
an  opening  for  litigation ;  or,  lastly,'  and  principally,  where  it  de- 
frauds creditors  :  for,  by  a  defect  in  our  laws,  which  has  been  long 
and  strangely  overlooked,  real  estates  are  not  subject  to  the  pay- 
ment of  debts  by  simple  contract,  unless  made  so  by  will ;  although 
credit  is,  in  fact,  generally  given  to  the  possession  of  such  estates  : 
he,  therefore,  who  neglects  to  make  the  necessary  appointments  for 
the  payment  of  his  debts,  as  far  as  his  effects  extend,  sins,  as  it  has 
been  justly  said,  in  his  grave  :  and  if  he  omits  this  on  purpose  to 
defeat  the  demands  of  his  creditors,  he  dies  with  a  deliberate  fraud 
in  his  heart. 

Anciently,  when  any  one  died  without  a  will,  the  bishop  of  the 
diocese  took  possession  of  his  personal  fortune,  in  order  to  dispose 
of  it  for  the  benefit  of  his  soul,  that  is,  to  pious  or  charitable  uses, 
It  became  necessary,  therefore,  that  the  bishop  should  be  satisfied 
of  the  authenticity  of  the  will,  when  there  was  any,  before  he  re- 
signed the  right  he  had  to  take  possession  of  the  dead  man's  fortune 
in  case  of  intestacy.  In  this  way,  wills,  and  controversies  relating 
to  wills,  came  within  the  cognizance  of  ecclesiastical  courts  ;  un- 
der the  jurisdiction  of  which,  wills  of  personals  (the  only  wills  that 
were  made  formerly)  still  continue,  though  in  truth,  no  more  now- 
a-days  connected  with  religion,  than  any  other  instruments  of  con- 
veyance. This  is  a  peculiarity  in  the  English  law. 

Succession  to  intestates  must  be  regulated  by  positive  rules  of 
law,  there  being  no  principle  of  natural  justice  whereby  to  ascertain 
the  proportion  of  the  different  claimants  :  not  to  mention  that  the 
claim  itself,  especially  of  collateral  kindred,  secrns  to  have  foun- 
dation in  the  law  of  nature. 

These  regulations  should  be  guided  by  the  duty  and  presumed 


WILLS.  119 

inclination  of  the  deceased,  so  far  as  these  considerations  can  be 
consulted  by  general  rules.  The  statutes  of  Charles  the  Second 
commonly  called  the  Statutes  of  Distribution,  which  adopt  the  rule 
of  the  Roman  law  in  the  distribution  of  personals,  are  sufficiently 
epuitable.  They  assign  one-third  to  the  widow,  and  two-thirds  to 
the  children ;  in  case  of  no  children,  one-half  to  the  widow,  and 
the  other  half  to  the  next  of  kin ;  where  neither  widow  nor  lineal 
descendants  survive,  the  whole  to  the  next  of  kin,  and  to  be  equally 
divided  amongst  kindred  of  equal  degrees,  without  distinction  of 
whole  blood  and  naif  blood,  or  of  consanguinity  by  the  father's  or 
mother's  side. 

The  descent  of  real  estates,  that  is,  of  houses,  and  land,  having 
been  settled  in  more  remote  and  in  ruder  times,  is  less  reasonable. 
There  never  can  be  much  to  complain  of  in  a  rule  which  every  per- 
son may  jvoid,  by  so  easy  a  provision  as  that  of  making1  his  will : 
otherwise,  our  law  in  this  respect  is  chargeable  with  some  flagrant 
absurdities  ;  such  as,  that  an  estate  shall  in  nowise  go  to  the  brother 
or  sister  of  th#  half  blood,  though  it  came  to  the  deceased  from  tho 
common  parent ;  that  it  shall  go  to  die  remotest  relation  the  intes- 
tate has  in  the  world,  rather  than  to  his  own  father  or  mother ;  or 
even  be  forfeited  for  want  of  an  heir,  though  both  parents  survive ; 
that  the  most  distant  paternal  relation  shall  be  prefered  to  an  uncle, 
or  own  cousin,  by  the  mother's  side,  notwithstanding  the  estate  was 
purchased  and  acquired  by  the  intestate  himself. 

Land  not  being  so  divisible  as  money,  may  be  a  reason  for  ma- 
king a  difference  in  the  course  of  inheritance ;  but  there  ought  to 
be  no  difference  but  what  is  founded  upoa  that  reason.  The  Ro- 
enan  law  made  none/ 


BOOK  111 


PART  II. 

OF  RELATIVE  DUTIES  WHICH  ARF 
INDETERMINATE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CHARITY. 

I  USE  the  term  Charity  neither  in  the  common  sense  of  bountj 
to  the  poor,  nor  in  St.  Paul's  sense  of  benevolence  to  all  mankind ; 
but  I  apply  it  at  present,  in  a  sense  more  commodious  to  my  pur- 
pose, to  signify  the  promoting  the  happiness  of  our  inferiors. 

Charity  in  this  sense,  I  take  to  be  the  principal  province  of  vir- 
tue and  religion  ;  for,  whilst  worldly  prudence  will  direct  our  be- 
haviour towards  our  superiors,  and  politeness  towards  our  equals, 
there  is  little  beside  the  consideration  of  duty,  or  an  habitual  hu- 
manity which  comes  into  the  place  of  consideration  to  produce  a 
proper  conduct  towards  those  who  are  beneath  us,  and  dependent 
upon  us. 

There  are  three  principal  methods  of  promoting  the  happiness  o* 
our  inferiors :  — 

1.  By  the  treatment  of  our  domestics  and  dependants, 

2.  By  professional  assistance. 

3.  By  pecuniary  bounty. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

CHARITY. 

THE  TREATMENT  OF  OUR  DOMESTICS  AND  DEPENDANTS. 

A  PARTY  of  friends  setting  out  together  upon  a  journey,  soon 
find  it  to  be  the  best  for  all  sides,  that  while  they  are  upon  the  road, 
one  of  the  company  should  wait  upon  the  rest ;  another  ride  for* 


CHARITY.  121 

ward  to  seek  out  lodging  and  entertainment;  a  third  carry  the 
portmanteau ;  a  fourth  take  charge  of  the  horses ;  a  fifth  bear  the 
purse,  conduct  and  direct  the  route ;  not  forgetting,  however,  that 
as  they  were  equal  and  independent  when  they  set  out,  so  they  are 
all  to  return  to  a  level  again  at  their  journey's  end.  The  same  re- 
gard and  respect ;  the  same  forbearance,  lenity,  and  tenderness  in 
using  their  service ;  the  same  mildness  in  delivering  commands ; 
the  same  study  to  make  their  journey  comfortable  and  agreeable  to 
them,  which  he  whose  lot  it  was  to  direct  the  rest,  would  in  com- 
mon decency  think  himself  bound  to  observe  towards  them,  ought 
we  to  show  to  those  who,  in  the  casting  of  the  parts  of  human  soci- 
ety, happen  to  be  placed  within  our  power,  or  to  depend  upon  us. 

Another  reflection  of  a  like  tendency  with  the  former  is,  that 
our  obligation  to  them  is  much  greater  than  theirs  to  us.  It  is  a 
mistake  to  suppose  that  the  rich  man  maintains  his  servants,  trades- 
men, tenants,  and  labourers ;  the  truth  is,  they  maintain  him.  It 
is  their  industry  that  supplies  his  table,  furnishes  his  wardrobe, 
builds  his  houses,  adorns  his  equipage,  provides  his  amusements* 
It  is  not  his  estate,  but  the  labour  employed  upon  it,  that  pays  his 
rent.  All  that  he  does,  is  to  distribute  what  others  produce ;  which 
is  the  least  part  of  the  business. 

Nor  do  I  perceive  any  foundation  for  an  opinion,  which  is  often 
handed  round  in  genteel  company,  that  good  usage  is  thrown  away 
upon  low  and  ordinary  minds ;  that  they  are  insensible  of  kindness, 
and  incapable  of  gratitude.  If  by  "low  and  ordinary  minds"  are 
meant  the  minds  of  men  in  low  and  ordinary  stations,  they  seem  to 
be  affected  by  benefits  in  the  same  way  that  all  others  are,  and  to 
be  no  less  ready  to  requite  them ;  and  it  would  be  a  very  unac- 
countable law  of  nature  if  it  were  otherwise. 

Whatever  uneasiness  we  occasion  to  our  domestics,  which  nei- 
ther promotes  our  service,  nor  answers  the  just  ends  of  punishment, 
is  manifestly  wrong ;  were  it  only  upon  the  general  principle  of 
diminishing  the  sum  of  human  happiness. 

By  which  rule  we  are  forbidden, 

1.  To  enjoin  unnecessary  labour  or  confinement,  from  the  me>" 
love  and  wantonness  of  domination. 

2.  To  insult  them  by  harsh,  scornful,  or  opprobious  }"^SuaSe" 

3.  To  refuse  them  any  harmless  pleasures 

And,  by  the  same  principle,  are  al«»  rorbidden  causeless 
moderate  anger,  habitual  peevishness,  and  groundless  suspicion. 
11* 


12? 


CHAPTER   III. 

SLAVERY. 

THE  prohibitions  of  the  last  chapter  extend  to  the  treatment  oi 
slaves,  being  founded  upon  a  principle  independent  of  the  contract 
between  masters  and  servants. 

I  define  slavery  to  be  "  an  obligation  to  labour  for  the  benefit  of 
"  the  master,  without  the  contract  or  consent  of  the  servant." 

This  obligation  may  arise,  consistently  with  the  law  of  nature . 
from  three  causes  : — 

1.  From  crimes. 

2.  From  captivity. 

3.  From  debt. 

In  the  first  case,  the  continuance  of  the  slavery,  as  of  any  other 
punishment,  ought  to  be  proportioned  to  the  crime ;  in  the  second 
and  third  cases,  it  ought  to  cease,  as  soon  as  the  demand  of  the  in- 
jured nation,  or  private  creditor,  is  satisfied. 

The  slave-trade  upon  the  coast  of  Africa  is  not  excused  by  these 
principles.  When  slaves  are  in  that  country  brought  to  market, 
no  questions,  I  believe,  are  asked  about  the  origin  or  justice  of  the 
vender's  title.  It  may  be  presumed,  therefore,  that  this  title  i^ 
not  always,  if  it  be  ever,  founded  in  any  of  the  causes  above  a1?- 
signed. 

But  defect  of  right  in  the  first  purchase  is  the  least  crime  with 
•which  this  traffic  is  chargeable.  The  natives  are  excited  to  war 
and  mutual  depredation,  for  the  sake  of  supplying  their  contracts, 
or  furnishing  the  market  with  slaves.  With  this  the  wickedness 
begins.  The  slaves,  torn  away  from  parents,  wives,  children,  from 
their  friends  and  companions,  their  fields  and  flocks,  their  home  and 
country,  are  transported  to  the  European  settlements  in  America, 
with  no  other  accommodation  on  shipboard  than  what  is  provided 
for  brutes.  This  is  the  second  stage  of  cruelty ;  from  which  the 
miserable  exiles  are  delivered,  only  to  be  placed,  and  that  for  life. 
in  subjection  to  a  dominion  and  system  of  laws,  the  most  merciless 
•-d  tyrannical  that  ever  were  tolerated  upon  the  face  of  the  earth  ;, 
an<*  i*^nn  all  that  can  be  learned  by  the  accounts  of  people  upon 
the  spot,  ii^  inordinate  authority  which  the  plantation  laws  confer 
tipon  the  slaveholder,  U  exercised  by  the  English  slaveholder, 
especially,  with  rigour  and  bi-nt-alitv. 

But  necessity  is  pretended,  the  name  under  which  all  enormities 
are  attempted  to  be  excused.  And,  after  all,  what  is  the  necessi- 
ty ?  It  has  never  been  proved  that  the  land  could  not  be  cultivated 


SLAVERV.  120 

there,  as  it  is  here,  by  hired  servants.  It  is  said  that  it  could  not 
be  cultivated  with  quite  the  same  conveniency  and  cheapness,  as  by 
the  labour  of  slaves ;  by  which  means,  a  pound  of  sugar,  which  the 
planter  now  sells  for  sixpence,  could  not  be  afforded  under  six- 
pence-half-penny ; — and  this  is  the  necessity. 

The  great  revolution  which  has  taken  place  in  the  western  world 
may  probably  conduce,  and  who  knows  but  that  it  was  designed  to 
accelerate,  the  fall  of  this  abominable  tyranny  ;  and  now  that  this 
contest,  and  the  passions  which  attend  it,  are  no  more,  there  may 
succeed,  perhaps,  a  season  for  reflecting,  whether  a  legislature, 
which  had  so  long  lent  its  assistance  to  the  support  of  an  institution 
replete  with  human  misery,  was  fit  to  be  trusted  with  an  empire  the 
most  extensive,  that  ever  obtained  in  any  age  or  quarter  of  the 
world. 

Slavery  was  a  part  of  the  civil  constitution  of  most  countries 
when  Christianity  appeared;  yet  no  passage  is  to  be  "found  in  the 
Christian  Scriptures  by  which  it  is  condemned  or  prohibited.  This 
is  true :  for  Christianity,  soliciting  admission  into  all  nations  of  the 
world,  abstained,  as  behooved  it,  from  intermeddling  with  the  civil 
institutions  of  any.  But  does  it  follow,  from  the  silence  of  Scrip- 
ture concerning  them,  that  all  the  civil  institutions  which  then  pre- 
vailed were  right?  or  that  the  bad  should  not  be  exchanged  for 
better  ? 

Besides  this,  the  discharging  of  slaves  from  all  obligation  to  obey 
their  masters,  which  is  the  consequence  of  pronouncing  slavery  to 
be  unlawful,  would  have  had  no  better  effect,  than  to  let  loose  one 
half  of  mankind  upon  the  other.  Slaves  would  have  been  tempted  to 
embrace  a  religion  which  asserted  their  right  to  freedom  :  masters 
would  hardly  have  been  persuaded,  to  consent  to  claims  founded 
upon  such  authority ;  the  most  calamitous  of  all  contests,  a  bellum 
servile,  might  probably  have  ensued,  to  the  reproach,  if  not  the 
extinction  of  the  Christian  name. 

The  truth  is,  the  emancipation  of  slaves  should  be  gradual,  and 
be  carried  on  by  provisions  of  law,  under  the  protection  of  civil 
government.  Christianity  can  only  operate  as  an  alterative.  By 
the  mild  diffusion  of  its  light  and  influence,  the  minds  of  men  are 
insensibly  prepared  to  perceive  and  correct  the  enormities  which 
folly,  or  wickedness,  or  accident,  have  introduced  into  their  public 
establishments.  In  this  way  the  Greek  and  Roman  slavery,  and 
since  these,  the  feudal  tyranny,  has  declined  before  it.  And  we 
trust,  that,  as  the  knowledge  and  authority  of  the  same  religion 
advance  in  the  \vorld,  they  will  banish  what  remains  of  this  odiou  • 
institution. 


124  PROFESSIONAL    ASSISTANCE- 

CHAPTER  XV. 

CHARITY. 

PROFESSIONAL  ASSIST ANCE. 

THIS  kind  of  beneficence  is  chiefly  to  be  expected  from  mem- 
hers  of  the  legislature,  magistrates,  medical,  legal,  and  sacerdotal 
professions.  , 

1.  The  care  of  the  poor  ought  to  be  the  principal  object  of  all 
laws;  for  this  plain  reason,  that  the  rich  are  able  to  take  care  < 
themselves. 

Much  has  been,  and  more  might  be  done,  by  the  laws 
country,  towards  the  relief  of  the  impotent,  and  the  protection  and 
encouragement  of  the  industrious  poor.  Whoever  applies  himselt 
to  collect  observations  upon  the  state  and  operation  of  the  poor- 
laws,  and  to  "contrive  remedies  for  the  imperfections  and  abuses 
which  he  observes,  and  digests  these  remedies  into  acts  of  parlia- 
ment, and  conducts  them,  by  argument  or  influence,  through  the 
two  branches  of  the  legislature,  or  communicates  his  ideas  to  those 
who  are  more  likely  to  carry  them  into  effect,  deserves  well 
class  of  the  community  so  numerous,  that  their  happiness  makes 
no  inconsiderable  part  of  the  whole.  The  study  and  activity  thus 
employed,  is  charity,  iu  the  most  meritorious  sense  of  the  word. 

2.  The  care  of  the  poor  is  intrusted,  in  the  first  instance,  toover- 
hcers  and  contractors,  Who  have  an  interest  in  opposition  to  that  of 
Ihc  poor,  inasmuch  as  whatever  they  allow  them,  comes  in  part  out 
of  their  own  pocket.     For  this  reason,  the  law  has  deposited  with 
Justices  of  the  peace  a  power  of  superintendence  and  control;  and 
the  judicious  interposition  of  this  power  is  a  most  useful  exertion  of 
charity,  and  ofttimes  within  the  ability  of  those  who  have  no  other 
way  of  serving  their  generation.     A  country  gentleman  of  very 
moderate  education,  and  who  has  little  to  spare  from  his  fortune,  by 
learning  so  much  of  the    poor-law  as  is  to  be  found  in  Dr.  Burn's 
Justice,  and  furnishing  himself  with  a  knowledge  of  the  prices  of 
labour  and  provisions,  so  as  to  be  able  to  estimate  the  exigences  of 
a  family,  and  what  is  to  be  expected  from  their  industry,  may,  in 
this  way,  place  out  the  one  talent  committed  to  him,  to  great  ac- 
count. 

3.  Of  all  private  professions,  that  of  medicine  puts  it  in  a  man's 
power  to  do  the  most  good  at  the  least  expense.     Health,  which  is 
precious  to  all,  is  to  the  poor  invaluable  ;  and  their  complaints,  as 
agues,  rheumatisms,  &c.  are  often  such  as  yield  to  medicine.     And, 
with  respect  to  the  expense,  drugs  at  first  hand  cost  little,  and  ad- 


PECUNIARY  BOTJNTTi  125 

Vice  nothing,  where  it  is  only  bestowed  upon  those  who  could  not. 
afford  to  pay  for  it. 

4.  The  rights  of  the  poor  are  not  so  important  or  intricate,  as 
their  contentions  are  violent  and  ruinous.  A  lawyer  or  attorney, 
of  tolerable  knowledge  in  his  profession,  has  commonly  judgment 
enough  to  adjust  these  disputes,  with  all  the  effect,  and  without  the 
expense  of  a  law- suit;  and  he  may  be  said  to  give  a  poor  man 
twenty  pounds,  who  prevents  his  throwing  it  away  upon  law.  A 
legal  man,  whether  of  the  profession  or  not,  who,  together  with  a 
spirit  of  conciliation,  possesses  the  confidence  of  his  neighbourhood, 
will  be  much  resorted  to  for  this  purpose,  especially  since  the  great 
increase  of  cost,  has  produced  a  general  dread  of  going  to  law. 

Nor  is  this  line  of  beneficence  confined  to  arbitration.  Season- 
able counsel,  coming  with  the  weight  which  the  reputation  of  the 
adviser  gives  it,  will  often  keep  or  extricate  the  rash  and  unin- 
formed'out  of  great  difficulties. 

I  know  not  a  more  exalted  charity  than  that  which  presents  a 
shield  against  the  rapacity  or  persecution  of  a  tyrant. 

5.  Betwixt  argument  and  authority  (I  mean  that  authority  which 
flows  from  voluntary  respect,  and  attends  upon  sanctity  and  disin- 
terestedness of  character)  some  things  may  be  done,  amongst 
the  lower  orders  of  mankind  towards  the  regulation  of  their  con- 
duct, and  the  satisfaction  of  their  thoughts.  This  office  belongs  to 
the  ministers  of  religion ;  or  rather,  whoever  undertakes  it  becomes 
a  minister  of  religion.  The  inferior  clergy,  who  are  nearly  upon  a 
level  with  the  common  sort  of  their  parishioners,  and  who  on  that 
account,  gain  an  easier  admission  to  thfir  society  and  confidence, 
have  in  this  respect  more  in  their  power  than  their  superiors :  The 
discreet  use  of  this  power  constitutes  one  of  the  most  respectable 
functions  of  human  nature. 


CHAPTER  V. 

CHARITY. 

PECUNIARY  BOUNTY. 

I.  The  obligation,  to  bestow  relief  upon  the  poor, 

II.  The  manner  of  bestowing  it. 

III.  The  pretencet  by  which  men  excuse  themselves  from  if. 

I.   The  obligation  to  bestow  relief  upon  the  poor. 
THEY  who  rank  pity  amongst  the  original  impulses  of  our  nature., 
contend,  that  when  it  prompts  us  to  the  relief  of  human 


;26  PECUNIARY    BOUNTY, 

misery,  it  indicates  sufficiently  the  Divine  intention,  and  our  duty. 
Indeed,  the  same  conclusion  is  deducible,  from  the  existence  of  the 
passion,  whatever  account  be  given  of  its  origin.  Whether  it  be 
an  instinct  or  a  habit,  it  is  in  fact  a  property  of  our  nature,  which 
God  appointed ;  and  the  final  cause  for  which  it  was  appointed  is, 
to  afford  to  the  miserable,  in  the  compassion  of  their  fellow-crea- 
tures, a  remedy  for  those  inequalities  and  distresses  which 
foresaw  that  many  must  be  exposed  to  under  every  general  rule 
for  the  distribution  of  property. 

Beside  this,  the  poor  have  a  claim  founded  in  the  law  of  nat 
which  maybe  thus  explained:— All  things  were  originally  common. 
No  one  being  able  to  produce  a  charter  from  Heaven,  had  any 
better  title  to  a  particular  possession  than  his  next  neighbour. 
There  were  reasons  for  mankind's  agreeing  upon  a  separation  oi 
this  common  fund  ;  and  God  for  these  reasons  is  presumed  to  have 
ratified  it.  But  this  separation  was  made  and  consented  to,  upon 
the  expectation  and  condition  that  every  one  should  have  left  a 
sufficiency  for  his  subsistence,  or  the  means  of  procuring  it :  and 
as  no  fixed  laws  for  the  regulation  of  property  can  be  so  contrived, 
as  to  provide  for  the  relief  of  every  case  and  distress  which  may 
arise,  these  cases  and  distresses,  when  their  right  and  share  in  the 
common  stock  was  given  up  or  taken  from  them,  were  supposed  to 
be  left  to  the  voluntary  bounty  of  those  who  might  be  acquainted 
with  the  exigences  of  their  situation,  and  in  the  way  of  affording 
assistance.  And,  therefore,  when  the  partition  of  property  is  rigid- 
iy  maintained  against  the  claims  of  indigence  and  distress,  it  is 
maintained  in  opposition  to  the  intention  of  those  who  made  it,  and 
to  Aw,  who  is  the  Supreme  Proprietor  of  every  thing,  and  who  has 
filled  the  world  with  plenteousness,  for  the  sustentation  and  comfoi 
of  all  whom  he  sends  into  it. 

The  Christian  Scriptures  are  more  copious  and  explicit  upor 
this  duty  than  almost  any  other.  The  description  which  Christ  hath 
left  us  of  the  proceedings  of  the  last  day,  establishes  the  obligation 
of  bounty  beyond  controversy  •— "  When  the  Son  of  man  shall 
•'  come  in  his  glory,  and  all  the  holy  angels  with  him,  then  shall  he 
-''sit  upon  the  throne  of  his  glory,  and  before  him  shall  be  gathered 
«  all  nations ;  and  he  shall  separate  them  one  from  another.— Then. 
-'  shall  the  king  say  unto  them  on  his  right  hand,  Come,  ye  blessed 
•'of  my  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the 
"  foundation  of  the  world  :  For  I  was  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me 
-meat:  I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  drink  :  I  was  a  stranger, 
••  and  ye  took  me  in:  naked,  and  ye  clothed  me  :  I  was  sick,  and 
••'  ye  visited  me :  I  was  in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto  me.— And  inas- 


PECUNIARY    BOUNT*.  12?  * 

"  much  as  ye  have  done  it  to  one  of  the  least  of  these  my  brethren, 
"ye  have  done  it  unto  me."*  It  is  not  necessary  to  understand 
this  passage  as  a  literal  account  of  what  will  actually  pass  on  that 
day.  Supposing  it  only  a  scenical  description  of  the  rules  and 
principles  by  which  the  Supreme  Arbiter  of  our  destiny  will  regu- 
late his  decisions,  it  conveys  .the  same  lesson  to  us  ;  it  equally  de- 
monstrates of  how  great  value  and  importance  these  duties  in  the 
sight  of  God  are,  and  what  stress  will  be  laid  upon  them.  The 
apostles  also  describe  this  virtue  as  propitiating  the  Divine  favour 
in  an  eminent  degree,  And  these  recommendations  have  produ- 
ced their  effect.  It  does  not  appear  that,  before  the  times  of  Chris- 
tianity, an  infirmary,  hospital,  or  public  charity  of  any  kind,  exis- 
ted in  the  world  :  whereas  most  countries  in  Christendom  have 
long  abounded  with  these  institutions.  To  which  may  be  added, 
that  a  spirit  of  private  liberality  seems  to  flourish  amidst  the  decay 
of  many  other  virtues  ;  not  to  mention  the  legal  provision  for  the 
poor,  which  obtains  in  this  country,  and  which  was  unknown  and 
unthought  of  by  the  most  polished  nations  of  antiquity. 

St.  Paul  adds  upon  the  subject  an  excellent  direction,  and  which 
is  practicable  by  all  who  have  any  thing  to  give : — "Upon  the  first 
"  day  of  the  week  (or  any  other  stated  time)  let  -every  one  of  you 
"  lay  by  in  store,  as  God  hath  prospered  him."  By  which  I  under- 
stand St.  Paul  to  recommend  what  is  the  very  thing  wanting  with 
most  men,  the  being  charitable  upon  a  plan  ;  that  is,  from  a  delibe- 
rate comparison  of  our  fortunes  with  the  reasonable  expenses  and 
expectations  of  our  families,  to  compute  what  we  can  spare,  and 
lay  by  so  much  for  charitable  purposes  in  some  mode  or  other.  Tin 
mode  will  be  a  consideration  afterwards. 

The  effect  which  Christianity  produced  upon  some  of  its  first  con- 
verts, was  such  as  might  be  looked  for  from  a  divine  religion  com- 
ing with  full  force  and  miraculous  evidence  upon  the  consciences  oi 
mankind.  It  overwhelmed  all  worldly  considerations  in  the  expect- 
ation of  a  more  important  existence  : — "  And  the  multitude'of  them 
;t  that  believed,  were  of  one  heart  and  of  one  soul ;  neither  said 
"  any  of  them  that  aught  of  the  things  which  he  possessed  was  his 
•'  own ;  but  they  had  all  things  in  common. — Neither  was  there  any 
-'  among  them  that  lacked  ;  for  as  many  as  were  possessors  of  lands 
>'  or  houses,  sold  them,  and  brought  the  prices  of  the  things  that  were 
'•  sold,  and  laid  them  down  at  the  Apostles'  feet,  and  distribution  was 
"  made  unto  every  man  according  as  he  had  need."  Acts,  iv.  32. 

Nevertheless,  this  communitv  of  goods,  however,  it  manifested 
the  sincere  zeal  of  the  primitive  Christians,  is  no  precedent  for 

Matthew  xsv.  31. 


138  PECUNIARY    BOUNTY. 

our  imitation.     It  was  confined  to  the  Church  at  Jerusalem  ;  ecu 
tinued  not  long  there ;  was  never  enjoined  upon  any  ;  (Acts,  v.  4.;  j 
and,  although  it  might  suit  with  the  particular  circumstances  of  a 
small  and  select  society,  is  altogether  impracticable  in  a  large  and 
mixed  community. 

The  conduct  of  the  Apostles  upon  the  occasion  deserves  to  be 
noticed.  Their  followers  laid  down  their  fortunes  at  their  feet ;  but 
so  far  were  they  from  taking  advantage  of  this  unlimited  confi- 
dence, to  enrich  themselves,  or  to  establish  their  authority,  that 
they  soon  after  got  rid  of  this  business,  as  inconsistent  with  the 
main  object  of  their  mission,  and  transferred  the  custody  and  man- 
agement of  the  public  fund. to  deacons  elected  to  that  office  by  the 
people  at  large.  Acts,  vi. 

II.  The  manner  of  bestowing  bounty  ; — or  the  different  kinds  of 
charity. 

Every  question  between  the  different  kinds  of  charity,  supposes 
the  sum  bestowed  to  be  the  same. 

There  are  three  kinds  of  charity  which  prefer  a  claim  to  at- 
tention. 

The  first,  and  in  my  judgment -one  of  the  best,  is,  to  give  stated 
and  considerable  sums,  by  way  of  pension  or  annuity,  to  individ- 
uals or  families,  with  whoso  behaviour  and  distress  we  ourselve- 
are  acquainted.  When  I  speak  of  considerable  sums,  I  mean  on- 
ly, that  five  pounds,  or  any  other  sum,  given  at  once  or  divided 
amongst  five  or  fewer  families,  will  do  more  good  than  the  same  sum 
distributed  amongst  a  greater  number,  in  shillings  or  halfcrowas; 
and  that,  because  it  is  more  likely  to  be  properly  applied  by  the 
persons  who  receive  it.  A  poor  fellow,  who  can  find  no  better  use 
for  a  shilling  than  to  drink  his  benefactor's  health,  and  purchase 
half  an  hour's  recreation  for  himself,  would  hardly  break  into  a 
guinea  for  any  such  purpose,  or  be  so  improvident  as  not  to  lay  it 
by  for  an  occasion  of  importance,  for  his  rent,  his  clothing,  fuel,  or 
stock  of  winters  provision.  It  is  a  still  greater  recommendation 
of  this  kind  of  charity,  that  pensions  and  annuities,  which  arc 
paid  regularly,  aud  can  be  expected  at  the  time,  are  the  only  way 
by  which  we  can  prevent  one  part  of  a  poor  man's  sufferings, — tin 
dread  of  want. ' 

1.  But  as  this  kind  of  charity  supposes  that  proper  objects  of 
such  expensive  benefactions  fall  within  our  private  knowledge  and 
observation,  which  does  not  happen  to  all,  a  second  method  of 
doing  good,  which  is  in  every  one's  power  who  has  the  money  to 
spare,  is  by  subscription  to  public  charities.  Public  charities  ad' 
niit  of  this  argument  in  their  favour,  that  your  money  goes  further 


PECUNIARY    BOTTTs'TT.  1 

towards  attaining  the  end  for  which  it  is  given,  than  it  can  do  by 
any  private  and  separate  beneficence.  A  guinea,  for  example, 
contributed  to  an  infirmary,  becomes  the  means  of  providing  one 
patient  at  least  with  a  physician,  surgeon,  apothecary,  with  med- 
icine, diet,  lodging,  and  suitable  attendance  ;  which  is  not  the  tenth 
part  of  what  the  same  assistance,  if  it  could  be  procured  at  all, 
would  cost  to  a  sick  person  or  family  in  any  other  situation. 

3.  The  last,  and,  compared  with  the  former,  the  lowest  exertion 
of  benevolence,  is  in  the  relief  of  beggars.  Nevertheless,  I  by  no 
means  approve  the  indiscriminate  rejection  of  all  who  implore  our 
alms  in  this  way.  Some  may  perish  by  such  a  conduct.  Men  are 
sometimes  overtaken  by  distress,  for  which  all  other  relief  would 
come  too  late.  Beside  which,  resolutions  of  this  kind  compel  us  to 
offer  such  violence  to  our  humanity,  as  may  go  near,  in  a  little 
while,  to  suffocate  the  principle  itself,  which  is  a  very  serious  con- 
sideration. A  good  man,  if  he  do  not  surrender  himself  to  his 
feelings  without  reserve,  will  at  least  lend  an  ear  to  importuni- 
ties, which  come  accompanied  with  outward  attestations  of  distress  ; 
and  after  a  patient  hearing  of  the  complaint,  will  direct  himself  by 
the  circumstances  and  credibility  of  the  account  that  he  receives. 

There  are  other  species  of  charity  well  contrived  to  make  the 
money  expended  go  far ;  such  as  keeping  down  the  price  of  fuel 
or  provision,  in  case  of  a  monopoly  or  temporary  scarcity,  by  pur- 
chasing the  articles  at  the  best  market,  and  retailing  them  at  prime 
cost,  or  at  a  small  loss ;  or  the  adding  a  bounty  to  a  particular  spe- 
cies of  labour  when  the  price  is  accidentally  depressed. 

The  proprietors  of  large  estates  have  it  in  their  power  to  facili- 
tate the  maintenance,  and  thereby  encourage  the  establishment 
of  families  (which  is  one  of  the  noblest  purposes  to  which  the  rich 
and  great  can  convert  their  endeavours)  by  building  cottages, 
splitting  farms,  erecting  manufactures,  cultivating  wastes,  embank- 
ing the  sea,  draining  marshes,  and  other  expedients  which  the  situ- 
ation of  each  estate  points  out.  If  the  profits  of  these  underta- 
kings do  not  repay  the  expense,  let  the  authors  of  them  place  the 
difference  to  the  account  of  charity.  It  is  true  of  almost  all  such 
projects,  that  the  public  is  a  gainer  by  them,  whatever  the  owner  be. 
\nd  where  the  loss  can  be  spared,  this  consideration  is  sufficient. 

It  is  become  a  question  of  some  importance,  under  what  circum- 
stances works  of  charity  ought  to  be  done  in  private,  and  when 
they  may  be  made  public  without  detracting  from  the  merit  of  the 
action,  if,  indeed,  they  ever  may;  the  Author  of  our  religion  having 
delivered  a  rule  upon  this  subject,  which  seems  to  enjoin  universal 
-ccrecy: — "When  thou  doest  alms,  let  not  thy  left  hand  know 
12 


130  PECUNIARY    BOTJKTV. 

"what  thy  right  hand  doeth,  that  thy  alms  may  be  in  secret ;  au3 
"  thy  Father  which  seeth  in  secret,  himself  shall  reward  thec 
*'  openly."  Matt.  vi.  3,  4.  From  the  preamble  to  this  prohibition  I 
think  it,  however,  plain,  that  our  Saviour's  sole  design  was  to  forbid 
ostentation,  and  all  publishing  of  good  works  which  proceeds  from 
that  motive : — "  Take  heed  that  ye  do  not  your  alms  before  men, 
"  to  be  seen  of  them  ;  otherwise  ye  have  no  reward  of  your  Fath- 
il  er  which  is  in  heaven ;  Therefore,  when  thou  doest  thine  alms, 
"  do  not  sound  a  trumpet  before  thee,  as  the  hypocrites  do,  in  the 
"  synagogues  and  in  the  streets,  that  they  may  have  glory  of  men. 
"  Verily  I  say  unto  thee,  they  have  their  reward,"  ver.  1,  2.  There 
are  motives  for  the  doing  our  alms  in  public  beside  those  of  osten- 
tation, with  which,  therefore,  our  Saviour's  rule  has  no  concern  ; 
such  as  to  testify  our  approbation  of  some  particular  species  of 
charity,  and  to  recommend  it  to  others ;  to  take  off  the  prejudice 
which  the  want,  or,  -which  is  the  same  thing,  the  suppression  of  our 
name  in  the  list  of  contributors  might  excite  against  the  charity, 
or  against  ourselves.  And,  so  long  as  these  motives  are  free  from 
any  mixture  of  vanity,  they  are  in  no  danger  of  invading  our  Sav- 
iour's prohibition  ;  they  rather  seem  to  comply  with  another  direc- 
tion which  he  has  left  us  :  "  Let  your  light  so  shine  before  men,  that 
"  they  may  see  your  good  works,  and  glorify  your  Father  which 
"  is  in  heaven."  If  it  be  necessary  to  propose  a  precise  distinc- 
tion upon  the  subject,  I  can  think  of  none  better  than  the  follow- 
ing :  When  our  bounty  is  beyond  our  fortune  or  station,  that  is, 
when  it  is  more  than  could  be  expected  from  us,  our  charity 'should 
be  private,  if  privacy  be  practicable :  when  it  is  not  more  than 
may  be  expected,  it  may  be  public  :  for  we  cannot  hope  to  influ- 
ence others  to  the  imitation  of  extraordinary  generosity,  and  there- 
fore want,  in  the  former  case,  the  only  justifiable,  reason  for  ma- 
king it  public. 

Having  thus  described  several  different  exertions  of  charity,  it 
may  not  be  improper  to  take  notice  of  a  species  of  liberality, 
which  is  not  charity,  in  any  sense  of  the  word  :  I  mean  the  giving 
of  entertainments  or  liquor,  for  the  sake  of  popularity  ;  or  the  re- 
warding, treating,  and  maintaining  the  companions  of  our  diver- 
sions, as  hunters,  shooters,  fishers,  and  the  like.  I  do  not  say  that  this 
is  criminal ;  I  only  say  that  it  is  not  charity ;  and  that  we  are  not  to 
suppose,  because  we  give,  and  give  to  the  poor,  that  it  will  stand  in 
the  place,  or  supercede  the  obligation,  of  more  meritorious  and 
disinterested  bounty. 

III.  The  jjretenccs  by  which  men  excuse  themselves  from  giving 
to  the  poor. 


PECUNIARY     BOt-^TT.  131 


1.  -That  they  have  nothing  to  spare,"  i.  €,  nothing  for  which 
(hey  have  not  some  other  use  ;   nothing  which  their  plan  of  ex- 
pense, together  with  the  savings  they  have  resolved  to  lay  by,  will 
not  exhaust  :  never  reflecting  whether  it  be  in  their  power,  or  that 
it  is  their  duty  to  retrench  their  expenses,  and  contract  their  plan, 
"that  they  may  have  to  give  to  them  that  need  ;"  or,  rather,  that 
this  ought  to  have  been  part  of  their  plan  originally. 

2.  "That  they  have  families  of  their  own,  and  that  charity  "  be- 
gins at  home."     The  extent  of  this  plea  will  be  considered,  when 
we  come  to  explain  the  duty  of  parents. 

3.  "  That  charity  does  not  consist  in  giving  money,  but  in  bene- 
•'  volence,  philanthropy,  love  to  all  mankind,  goodness  of  heart,"  &c. 
Hear  St.  James  :  "  If  a  brother  or  sister  be  naked,  and  destitute  of 
"daily  food,  and  one  of  you  say  unto  them,  "  Depart  in  peace;  be 
*'ye  warmed  and  filled;  notwithstanding  ye  give  them  not  those 
"  things  which  are  needful  to  the  body  ;  what  doth  it  profit  ?" 
James,  ii,  15,  16. 

4.  "  That  giving  to  the  poor  is  not  mentioned  in  St.  Paul's  de- 
"scription  of  charity,  in  the  thirteenth  chapter  of  his  First  Epistle 
•'to  the  Corinthians."     This  is  not  a  description  of  charity,  but  of 
good-nature  ;  and  it  is  not  necessary  that  every  duty  be  mentioned 
in  every  place. 

5.  "  That  they  pay  the  poor-rates."     They  might  as  well  allege 
that  they  pay  their  debts  :  for,  the  poor  have  the  same  right  to  that 
portion  of  a  man's  property  which  the  laws  assign  them,  that  the 
man  himself  has  to  the  remainder. 

6.  "  That  they  employ  many  poor  persons  :"  —  for  their  own  sake, 
not  the  poor's  ;  —  otherwise  it  is  a  good  plea. 

7.  "  That  the  poor  do  not  suffer  so  much  as  we  imagine  ;  that 
•'  education  and  habit  have  reconciled  them  to  the  evils  of  their 
•'condition,  and  make  them  easy  under  it."     Habit  can  never  re- 
concile human  nature  to  the  extremities  of  cold,  hunger,  and  thirst, 
any  more  than  it  can  reconcile  the  hand  to  the  touch  of  a  red  hot 
iron  :  besides,  the  question  is  not,  how  unhappy  any  one  is,  but  bow 
much  more  happy  we  can  make  him. 

8.  "  That  these  people,  give  them  what  you  will,  will  never  thank 
•'you,  or  think  of  you  for  it."     In  the  first  place,  this  is  not  true: 
in  the  second  place,  it  was  not  for  the  sake  of  their  thanks  that  you 
relieved  them. 

9.  "  That  we  are  so  liable  to  be  imposed  upon."    If  a  due  inqui- 
ry be  made,  our  motive  and  merit  is  the  same  :  beside  that,  the 
<listrsss  is  generally  real,  whatever  has  been  the  cause  of  it. 

10.  "  That  they  should  apply  to  their  parishes."    This  is  not  al- 


J32  _   BESENTMEST — ANGER. 

ways  practicable  :  to  which  we  may  add,  that  there  are  many  re 
quisites  to  a  comfortable  subsistence,  which  parish  relief  does  not 
always  supply ;  and  that  there  are  some  who  would  suffer  almost  as 
much  from  receiving-  parish  relief  as  by  the  want  of  it ;  and,  lastly, 
that  there  are  many  modes  of  charity  to  which  this  answer  does  no; 
relate  at  all. 

11.  "That  giving-  money  encourages  idleness  and  vagrancy. ': 
This  is  true  only  of  injudicious  and  indiscriminate  generosity. 

12.  "  That  we  have  too  many  objects  of  charity  at  home,  to  be- 
•'stow  any  thing-  upon  strang-ers;  or,  that  there  are  other  charities. 

"  which  are  more  useful,  or  stand  in  greater  need."  The  value  oi 
this  excuse  depends  entirely  upon  the/act,  whether  we  actually  re- 
lieve those  neighbouring-  objects,  and  contribute  to  those  other  cha- 
rities. 

Beside  all  these  excuses,  pride,  or  prudery,  or  delicacy,  or  love 
of  ease,  keep  one  half  of  the  world  out  of  the  way  of  observing1  what 
the  other  half  suffer. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

KliSEJMTMEA'T. 

RESENTMENT  may  be  distinguished  into  anger  and  revenge. 

By  anger,  I  mean  the  pain  we  suffer  upon  the  receipt  of  an  in  • 
jury  or  affront;  with  the  usual  effects  of  that  pain  upon  ourselves. 

By  revenge,  the  inflicting  of  pain  upon  the  person  who  has  inju- 
red or  offended  us,  further  than  the  just  ends  of  punishment  or  re- 
paration require. 

Anger  prompts  to  revenge;  but  it  is  possible  to  suspend  the  effect, 
wheu  we  cannot  altogether  quell  the  principle.  We  are  bound  also 
to  endeavour  to  qualify  and  correct  the  principle  itself.  So  that 
our  duty  requires  two  different  applications  of  the  mind  ;  and  fov 
that  reason,  anger  and  reveng-e  should  be  considered  separately. 


CHAPTER    VIZ. 

ANGER. 

"  BE  ye  angry,  and  sin  not;"  therefore  all  anger  is  not  sinful 
I  suppose,  because  some  degree  of  it.  and  upon  some  occasions,  it 
inevitable. 


AKGER.  133 

It  becomes  sinful,  or  contradicts,  however,  the  rule  of  Scripture, 
when  it  is  conceived  upon  slight  and  inadequate  provocations,  and 
when  it  continues  long1. 

1.  When  it  is  conceived  upon  slight  provocations;  for,  "charity 
•{  suffereth  long-,  is  not  easily  provoked." — "Let  every  man  be  slow 
"to  anger."    Peace,  long-suffering-,  g-entleness,  meekness,  are  enu- 
merated among  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  Gal.  v.  22.  and  compose  the 
true  Christian  temper,  as  to  this  article  of  duty. 

2.  When  it  continues  long  :  for,  "  let  not  the  sun  go  down  upon 
''  your  wrath." 

These  precepts,  and  all  reasoning  indeed  upon  the  subject,  sup- 
pose the  passion  of  anger  to  be  within  our  power  :  and  this  power 
consists  not  so  much  in  any  faculty  we  have  of  appeasing  our  wrath 
at  the  time  (for,  we  are  passive  under  the  smart  which  an  injury 
or  affront  occasions,  and  all  we  can  then  do  is,  to  prevent  its  break- 
ing out  into  action)  as  in  so  mollifying  our  minds  by  habits  of  jus( 
reflection  as  to  be  less  irritated  by  impressions  of  injury,  and  to  be 
sooner  pacified. 

Reflections  proper  for  this  purpose,  and  which  may  be  called  the 
sedatives  of  anger,  are  the  following  :  the  possibility  of  mistaking 
the  motives  from  which  the  conduct  that  offends  us  proceeded ; 
how  often  our  offences  have  been  the  effect  of  inadvertency,  when- 
they  were  mistaken  for  malice ;  the  inducement  which  prompted 
our  adversary  to  act  as  he  did,  and  how  "powerfully  the  same  induce- 
ment has,  at  one  time  or  other,  operated  upon  ourselves  ;  that  he  is 
suffering  perhaps  under  a  contrition,  which  he  is  ashamed  or  wants 
opportunity  to  confess ;  and  how  ungenerous  it  is  to  triumph  by 
coldness  or  insult  over  a  spirit  already  humbled  in  secret ;  that  the 
returns  of  kindness  are  sweet,  and  that  there  is  neither  honour,  nor 
use  in  resisting  them  : — for,  some  persons  think  themselves  bound 
to  cherish  and  keep  alive  their  indignation,  when  they  find  it  dying 
away  of  itself.  We  may  remember  that  others  have  their  passions, 
their  prejudices,  their  favourite  aims,  their  fears,  their  cautions,  their 
interests,  their  sudden  impulses,  their  varieties  of  apprehensions,  as 
well  as  we.  We  may  recollect  what  hath  sometimes  passed  in  our 
minds,  when  we  have  got  on  the  wrong  side.of  a  quarrel,  and  ima- 
gine the  same  to  be  passing  in  our  adversary's  mind  now ;  when  we 
became  sensible  of  our  misbehaviour,  what  palliations  we  perceived* 
in  it,  and  expected  others  to  perceive ;  hoir  we  were  affected  by 
the  kindness,  and  felt  the  superiority  of  a  generous  reception  and 
ready  forgiveness ;  how  persecution  revived  our  spirits  with  our  en- 
mity, and  seemed  to  justify  the  conduct  in  ourselves  which  we  be- 
fore blamed.  Add  to  this,  the  indecency  of  extravagant  anger ; 
12* 


134  KEVEN61E. 

.how  it  renders  us,  while  it  lasts,  the  scorn  and  sport  of  all  about  ra, 
of  which  it  leaves  us,  when  it  ceases,  sensible  ajid  ashamed ;  the 
inconveniences,  and  irretrievable  misconduct  into  which  our  iras- 
cibility has  sometimes  betrayed  us ;  the  friendships  it  has  lost  us  ; 
the  distresses  and  embarrassments  in  which  we  have  been  involved 
by  it ;  and  the  sore  repentance  which,  on  one  account  or  other,  it 
always  costs  us. 

But  the  reflection  calculated  above  all  others,  to  allay  that 
haughtiness  of  temper  which  is  ever  finding  out  provocations,  and 
which  renders  anger  so  impetuous,  is  that  which  the  Gospel  pro- 
poses ;  namely,  that  we  ourselves  are,  or  shortly  shall  be,  suppliants 
for  mercy  and  pardon  at  the  judgment-seat  of  God.  Imagine  our 
secret  sins  all  disclosed  and  brought  to  light ;  imagine  us  thus 
humbled  and  exposed  ;  trembling  under  the  hand  of  God ;  casting 
ourselves  on  his  compassion;  crying  out  for  mercy;  imagine  such 
a  creature  to  talk  of  satisfaction  and  revenge  ;  refusing  to  be  en- 
treated, disdaining  to  £prg\ve ;  extreme  to  mark  and  to  resent  what 
is  done  amiss: — imagine,  I  say,  this,  and  you  can  hardly  frame  to 
yourself  an  instance  of  more  impious  and  unnatural  arrogance. 

The  point  is,  to  habituate  ourselves  to  these  reflections,  till  they 
rise  up  of  their  own  accord  when  they  are  wanted,  that  is,  instant- 
ly upon  the  receipt  of  an  injury  or  affront,  and  with  such  force  and 
colouring,  as  both  to  mitigate  the  paroxysms  of  our  anger  at  the 
time,  and  at  length  to  produce  an  alteration  in  the  temper  and  dis- 
position itself. 


CHAPTER  VXXX. 

REVENGE. 

ALL  pain  occasioned  to  another  in  consequence  of  an  offence,  or 
injury  received  from  him,  further  than  what  is  calculated  to  pro- 
cure reparation,  or  promote  the  just  punishment,  is  so  much  re- 
venge. 

There  can  be  no  difficulty  in  knowing  when  we  occasion  pain  to 
another ;  nor  much  in  distinguishing  whether  we  do  so  with  a  view 
only  to  the  ends  of  punishment,  or  from  revenge ;  for,  in  the  one 
case  we  proceed  with  reluctance,  in  the  other  with  pleasure. 

It  is  highly  probable  from  the  light  of  nature,  that  a  passion . 
which  seeks  its  gratification  immediately  and  expressly  in  giving1 
pain,  is  disagreeable  to  the  benevolent  will  and  counsels  of  the  Crea- 
tor. Other  passions  and  pleasures  may,  and  often  do,  produce  paiu 


io  some  one  ;  but  then  pain  is  not ,  as  it  is  here,  the  object  of  the 
passion,  and  the  direct  cause  of  the  pleasure.  This  probability  is 
converted  into  certainty,  if  we  give  credit  to  the  authority  which 
dictated  the  several  passages  of  the  Christian  Scriptures  that  con- 
demn revenge,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  which  enjoiu  forgiveness. 

We  will  set  down  the  principle  of  these  passages  ;  and  endeavour 
to  collect  from  them,  what  conduct  upon  the  whole  is  allowed  to- 
wards an  enemy,  and  what  is  forbidden. 

"  If  ye  forgive  men  their  trespasses,  your  heavenly  Father  will 
"  also  forgive  you  :  but  if  ye  forgive  not  men  their  trespasses,  nei- 
"  ther  will  your  Father  forgive  your  trespasses." — And  his  lord  wa.« 
"  wroth,  and  delivered  him  to  the  tormenters,  till  he  should  pay  all 
•'  that  was  due  unto  him :  so  likewise  shall  my  heavenly  Father  do 
•'  also  unto  you,  if  ye  from  your  hearts  forgive  not  every  one  hi- 
"  brother  their  trespasses." — "Put  on  bowels  of  mercy,  kindness, 
"  humbleness  of  mind,  meekness,  long-suffering;  forbearing  one 
;i  another,  forgiving  one  another ;  if  any  man  have  a  quarrel  against 
•'any,  even  as  Christ  forgave  you,  so  also  do  ye." — "Be  patient 
"  towards  all  men ;  see  that  none  render  evil  for  evil  unto  any  man." 
— "  Avenge  not  yourselves,  but  rather  give  place  unto  wrath :  for 
•'  it  is  written,  Vengeance  is  mine  ;  I  will  repay,  saith  the  Lord. 
"  Therefore,  if  thine  enemy  hunger,  feed  him  ;  if  he  thirst,  give  him 
•'drink  ;  for,  in  so- doing  thou  shalt  heap  coals  of  fire  on  his  head. 
•;  Be  not  overcome  of  evil,  but  overcome  evil  with  good."* 

I  think  it  evident,  from  some  of  these  passages  taken  separately, 
and  still  more  so  from  all  of  them  together,  that  revenge,  as  de- 
scribed in  the  beginning  of  this  chapter,  is  forbidden  in  every  de- 
gree, under  all  forms,  and  upon  any  occasion.  We  are  likewise 
forbidden  to  refuse  to  an  enemy  even  the  most  imperfect  right;  "If 
•'he  hunger,  feed  him;  if  he  thirst,  give  him  drink ;"f  which  arc 
examples  of  imperfect  rights.  If  one  who  has  offended  us,  solicit 
from  us  a  vote  to  which  his  qualifications  entitle  him,  we  may  not 
refuse  it  from  motives  of  resentment,  or  the  remembrance  of  what 
we  have  suffered  at  his  hands.  His  right,  and  our  obligation  which 
follows  the  right,  is  not  altered  by  his  enmity  to  us,  or  ours  to  him. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  do  not  conceive,  that  these  prohibitions 
were  intended  to  interfere  with  the  punishment  or  prosecution  of 

*  Matt.  Vi  14.  15  ;  XViii.  34,  35.  Col.  iii.  13,  13.  1  Tlicss.  V.  1-1.  15.  Rom 
Xii.  19,  20,  21. 

f  See  also  Exodus,  sxiii.  4.  "If  tliou  meet  thine  enemy's  ox,  or  his  ass,  going 
•'  astray,  thou  shalt  surely  bring  it  back  to  him  again  :  if  thou  see  the  ass  of  him. 
•'  that  hateth  thee  lying  under  his  burthen,  and  wouldcst  forbear  to  help  him,  then 
••  shalt  surely  help  with  him." 


136  REVENGE. 

public  offenders.  In  the  eighteenth  chapter  of  St.  Matthew,  ou? 
Saviour  tells  his  disciples ;  "  If  thy  brother  who  has  trespassed 
"  against  thee  neglect  to  hear  the  church,  let  him  be  unto  thee  as 
>'  an  heathen  man,  and  a  publican."  Immediately  after  this,  when 
St.  Peter  asked  him,  "  How  oft  shall  my  brother  sin  against  me. 
"and  I  forgive  him?  till  seven  times?"  Christ  replied,  "I  say  not 
;'unto  thee  until  seven  times,  but  until  seventy  times  seven;"  that 
is,  as  often  as  he  repeats  the  offence.  From  these  two  passages 
compared  together,  we  are  authorized  to  conclude,  that  the  forgive- 
ness of  an  enemy  is'not  inconsistent  with  the  proceeding  against 
him  as  a  public  offender ;  and  that  the  discipline  established  in  re- 
ligious or  civil  societies,  for  the  restraint  or  punishment  of  crimi- 
nals, ought  to  be  upheld. 

As  the  magistrate  is  not  tied  down  by  these  prohibitions  from  the 
execution  of  his  office,  so  neither  is  the  prosecutor  :  for,  the  office 
of  the  prosecutor  is  as  necessary  as  that  of  the  magistrate. 

Nor,  by  parity  of  reason,  are  private  persons  withheld  from  the 
correction  of  vice,  when  it  is  in  their  power  to  exercise  it ;  pro- 
vided they  be  assured  that  it  is  the  guilt  which  provokes  them,  and 
not  the  injury,  and  that  their  motives  are  pure  from  all  mixture 
and  every  particle  of  that  spirit  which  delights  and  triumphs  in  the 
pain  and  humiliation  of  an  adversary. 

Thus,  it  is  no  breach  of  Christian  charity  to  withdraw  our  com- 
pany or  civility,  when  the  same  tends  to  discountenance  any  vicious 
practice.  This  is  one  branch  of  that  extrajudicial  discipline  which 
supplies  the  defects  and  the  remissness  of  law ;  and  is  expressly  au- 
thorized by  St.  Paul:  (1.  Cor.  v.  11  :)  "But  now  I  have  written 
•'  unto  you  not  to  keep  company,  if  any  man,  that  is  called  a  bro- 
{C  ther,  be  a  fornicator,  or  covetous,  or  an  idolater,  or  a  railer,  or  a 
"  drunkard,  or  an  extortioner;  with  such  a  one,  no  not  to  eat." 
The  use  of  this  association  against  vice  continues  to  be  experienced 
in  one  remarkable  instance,  and  might  be  extended  with  good 
effect  to  others.  The  confederacy  amongst  women  of  character; 
to  exclude  from  their  society  kept  mistresses  and  prostitutes,  con- 
tributes more  perhaps  to  discourage  that  condition  of  life,  and  pre- 
vents greater  numbers  from  entering  into  it,  than  all  the  considera- 
tions of  prudence  and  religion  put  together. 

We  are  likewise  allowed  to  practice  so  much  caution  as  not  to 
put  ourselves  in  the  way  of  injur}',  or  invite  the  repetition  of  it.  If 
a  servant  or  tradesman  has  cheated  us,  we  are  not  bound  to  trust 
him  again  :  for  this  is  to  encourage  him  in  his  dishonest  practices, 
which  is  doing  him  much  harm. 

Where  a  benefit  can  be  conferred  only  upon  one  or  few,  and  the 


DUELLING.  137 

choice  of  the  person  upon  whom  it  is  conferred  is  a  proper  object 
of  favour,  we  are  at  liberty  to  prefer  those  who  have  not  offended 
us  to  those  who  have ;  the  contrary  being  no  where  required. 

Christ,  who,  as  hath  been  well  demonstrated,*  estimated  virtues 
by  their  solid  utility,  and  not  by  their  fashion  or  popularity,  prefers 
this  of  the  forgiveness  of  injuries  to  every  other.  He  enjoins  it 
oftener ;  with  more  earnestness ;  under  a  greater  variety  of  forms  ; 
and  with  this  weighty  and  peculiar  circumstance,  that  the  forgive- 
ness of  others  is  the  condition  upon  which  alone  we  are  to  expect, 
or  even  ask,  from  God,  forgiveness  for  ourselves.  And  this  prefer- 
ence is  justified  by  the  superior  importance  of  the  virtue  itself.  The 
feuds  and  animosities  in  families  and  between  neighbours,  which 
disturb  the  intercourse  of 'human  life,  and  collectively  compose 
half  the  misery  of  it,  have  their  foundation  in  the  want  of  a  forgiv- 
ing temper ;  and  can  never  cease,  but  by  the  exercise  of  this  vir- 
tue, on  one  side,  or  on  both. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

DUELLING. 

DUELLING  as  a  punishment  is  absurd ;  because  it  is  an  equal 
chance  whether  the  punishment  fall  upon  the  offender,  or  the  per- 
son offended.  Nor  is  it  much  better  as  a  reparation  ;  it  being  dim- 
cult  to  explain  what  the  satisfaction  consists  in,  or  how  it  tends  to 
undo  the  injury,  or  to  afford  a  compensation  for  the  damage  already 
sustained. 

The  truth  is,  it  is  not  considered  as  either.  A  law  of  honour  hav- 
ing annexed  the  imputation  of  cowardice  to  patience  under  an 
affront,  challenges  are  given  and  accepted  with  no  other  design 
than  to  prevent  or  wipe  off  this  suspicion ;  without  malice  against 
the  adversary,  generally  without  a  wish  to  destroy  him,  or  any  con- 
cern but  to  preserve  the  duelist's  own  reputation  and  reception  in 
the  world. 

The  unreasonableness,  of  this  rule  of  manners  is  one  considera- 
tion ;  the  duty  and  conduct  of  individuals,  while  such  a  rule  exists, 
is  another. 

As  to  which,  the  proper  and  single  question  is  this  ;  whether  a  re- 
gard for  our  own  reputation  is,  or  is  not,  sufficient  to  justify  the 
taking  away  the  life  of  another  ? 

*See  a  View  of  the  Internal  Evidence  of  the  Christian  Religion. 


135  OTTELI.I3VG, 

Murder  is  forbidden ;  and  wherever  human  life  is  deliberately 
taken  away,  otherwise  than  by  public  authority,  there  is  murder. 
The  value  and  security  of  human  life  make  this  rule  necessary ; 
for  I  do  not  see  what  other  idea  or  definition  of  murder  can  be 
admitted,  which  will  not  let  in  so  much  private  violence,  as  to 
render  society  a  scene  of  peril  and  bloodshed. 

If  unauthorized  laws  of  honour  be  allowed  to  create  exceptions 
to  divine  prohibitions,  there  is  an  end  of  all  morality,  as  founded 
in  the  will  of  the  Deity ;  and  the  obligation  of  every  duty  may  at 
one  time  or  other  be  discharged  by  the  caprice  and  fluctuations 
of  fashion. 

"  But  a  sense  of  shame  is  so  much  torture ;  and  no  relief  presents 
"  itself  otherwise  than  by  an  attempt  upon  the  life  of  our  adversary.'* 
What  then  ?  The  distress  which  men  suffer  by  the  want  of  monej 
is  oftentimes  extreme,  and  no  resource  .can  be  discovered  but  that 
of  removing  a  life  which  stands  between  the  distressed  person  and 
his  inheritance.  The  motive  in  this  case  is  as  urgent,  and  the 
means  much  the  same,  as  in  the  former:  yet  this  case  finds  no 
advocates  ' 

Take  away  the  circumstance  of  the  duellist's  exposing  his  own 
life,  and  it  becomes  assassination ;  add  this  circumstance,  and  what 
difference  does  it  make  ?  None  but  this,  that  fewer  perhaps  will 
imitate  the  example,  and  human  life  will  be  somewhat  more  safe, 
when  it  cannot  be  attacked  without  equal  danger  to  the  aggres- 
sor's own.  Experience  however  proves,  that  there  is  fortitude 
enough  in  most  men  to  undertake  this  hazard  ;  and  were  it  other- 
wise, the  defence,  at  best,  would  be  only  that  which  a  highwayman 
or  housebreaker  might  plead,  whose  attempt  had  been  so  daring 
and  desperate,  that  few  were  likely  to  repeat  the  same. 

In  expostulating  with  a  duellist,  I  all  along  suppose  his  adver- 
sary to  fall.  Which  supposition  I  am  at  liberty  to  make,  because, 
if  he  have  no  right  to  kill  his  adversary  he  has  none  to  attempt  it. 

In  return,  I  forbear  from  applying  to  the  case  of  duelling  the 
Christian  principle  of  the  forgiveness  of  injuries ;  because  it  is 
possible  to  suppose  the  injury  to  be  forgiven,  and  the  duellist  to 
act  entirely  from  a  concern  for  his  own  reputation  ;  where  this  is 
not  the  case,  the  guilt  of  duelling  is  manifest,  and  greater. 

In  this  view  it  seems  unnecessary  to  distinguish  between  him 
who  gives,  and  him  who  accepts  a  challenge  ;  for  they  incur  an 
equal  hazard  of  destroying  life  ;  and  both  act  upon  the  same  per- 
suasion, that  what  they  do  is  necessary,  in  order  to  recover  or  pre- 
serve the  good  opinion  of  the  world. 

Public  opinion  is  not  easily  controlled  by  civil  institutions  ;  foi 


LITIGATION.  13S 

Which  reason  I  question,  whether  any  regulations  can  be  contri- 
ved, of  sufficient  force  to  suppress  or  change  the  rule  of  honour, 
which  stigmatizes  all  scruples  about  duelling  with  the  reproach  oi 
cowardice. 

The  inadequate  redress  which  the  law  of  the  land  affords  for 
those  injuries  which  chiefly  affect  a  man  in  his  sensibility  and 
reputation,  tempts  many  to  redress  themselves.  Prosecutions 
for  such  offences,  by  the  trifling  damages  that  are  recovered,  serve 
only  to  make  the  sufferer  .more  ridiculous. — This  ought  to  be 
remedied. 

For  the  army,  where  the  point  of  honour  is  cultivated  with  ex- 
quisite attention  and  refinement,  I  would  establish  a  Court  oj 
Honour,  with  a  power  of  awarding  those  submissions  and  acknow- 
ledgments, which  it  is  generally  the  object  of  a  challenge  to  ob- 
tain ;  and  it  might  grow  into  a  fashion,  with  persons  of  rank  of  all 
professions,  to  refer  their  quarrels,  to  the  same  tribunal. 

Duelling,  as  the  law  now  stands,  can  seldom  be  overtaken  by  le- 
gal punishment.  The  challenge,  appointment,  and  other  previous, 
circumstances,  which  indicate  the  intention  with  which  the  com- 
batants met,  being  suppressed,  nothing  appears  to  a  court  of  jus- 
tice, but  the  actual  rencounter  ;  and  if  a  person  be  slain  when  ac- 
tually fighting  with  his  adversary,  the  law  deems  his  death  nothing 
more  than  man-slaughter. 


CHAPTER  X. 

LITIGATION. 

;'  IF  it  be  possible,  live  peaceably  with  all  men  ;"  which  precep> 
Contains  an  indirect  confession  that  this  is  not  always  possible. 

The  instances*  in  the  fifth  chapter  of  St.  Matthew  are  rather  to 
be  understood  as  proverbial  methods  of  describing  the  general  du- 
ties of  forgiveness  and  benevolence,  and  of  the  temper  we  ought  to 
aim  at  acquiring,  than  as  directions  to  be  specifically  observed ; 
or  of  themselves  of  any  great  importance  to  be  observed.  The 
first  of  these  is,  "  If  thine  enemy  smite  thee  on  thy  right  cheek, 
"turn  to  him  the  other  also  :"  vet,  when  one  of  the  officers  struck 
Jesus  with  the  palm  of  his  hand,  we  find  Jesus  rebuking  him  for 
the  outrage  with  becoming  indignation  ;  "  If  I  have  spoken^  evil, 

*"  Whosoever  shall  smite  thee  on  thy  right  cheek,  turn  to  him  the  other  also  : 
••and  if  any  man  will  sue  thee  at  the  law.  and  take  away  thy  coat,  let  him  havr- 
•;thy  cloak  also:  and  whosoever  shall  compel  thee  to  go  a  mile,  go  with  bim 
•'  twain." 


140  tlTlGATIO*. 

i(bear  witness  of  the  evil;  but  if  well,  why  smitest  thou  me?" 
John,  xviii.  22.  It  may  be  observed,  likewise,  that  all  the  exam- 
ples are  drawn  'from  instances  of  small  and  tolerable  injuries.  A 
rule  which  forbade  all  opposition  to  injury,  or  defence  against  it. 
<:ould  have  no  other  effect,  than  to  put  the  good  in  subjection  to 
the  bad,  and  deliver  one  half  of  mankind  to  the  depredation  of  the 
other  half ;  which  must  be  the  case,  so  long  as  some  considered 
themselves  as  bound  by  such  a  rule,  whilst  others  despised  it.  St. 
Paul,  though  no  one  inculcated  forgiveness  and  forbearance  with  a 
deeper  sense  of  the  value  and  obligation  of  these  virtues,  did  not 
interpret  either  of  them  to  require  an  unresisting  submission  to 
every  contumely,  or  a  neglect  of  the  means  of  safety  and  self-de- 
fence. He  took  refuge  in  the  laws  of  his  country,  and  in  the  pri- 
vileges of  a  Roman  citizen,  from  the  conspiracy  of  the  Jews,  Acts. 
xxv.  11 ;  and  from  the  clandestine  violence  of  the  chief  captain. 
Acts,  xxii.  25.  And  yet  this  is  the  same  Apostle  who  reproved 
the  litigousness  of  his  Corinthian  converts  with  so  much  severity. 
"  Now,  therefore,  there  is  utterly  a  fault  among  you,  because  ye 
;'  go  to  law  one  with  another.  Why  do  ye  not  rather  take  wrong  r 
•'why  do  ye  not  rather  suffer  yourselves  to  be  defrauded  ?" 

On  the  one  hand,  therefore,  Christianity  excludes  all  vindictive 
motives,  and  all  frivolous  causes  of  prosecution ;  so  that  where  the 
injury  is  small,  where  no  good  purpose  of  public  example  is  an- 
swered, where  forbearance  is  not  likely  to  invite  a  repetition  of  the 
injury,  or  where  the  expense  of  an  action  becomes  a  punishment 
too  severe  for  the  offence,  there  the  Christian  is  withholden  by  the 
authority  of  his  religion  from  going  to  law. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  law-suit  is  inconsistent  with  no  rule  of  the 
Gospel,  when  it  is  instituted. 

1.  For  the  establishing  of  some  important  right. 

2.  For  the  procuring  a  compensation  for  some  considerable  da- 
mage. 

3.  For  the  preventing  of  future  injury. 

But,  since  it  is  supposed  to  be  undertaken  simply  with  a  view  to 
(he  ends  of  justice  and  safety,  the  prosecutor  of  the  action  is  bound 
to  confine  himself  to  the  cheapest  process  that  will  accomplish  these 
ends,  as  well  as  to  consent  to  any  peaceable  expedient  for  the  same 
purpose  ;  as  a  reference,  in  which  the  arbitrators  can  do,  what  the 
law  cannot,  divide  the  damage,  when  the  fault  is  mutual ;  or  a  com- 
pounding of  the  dispute,  by  accepting  a  compensation  in  the  gross, 
without  entering  into  articles  and  item1;,  which  it  is  often  very  dif- 
ficult to  adjust  separately. 


LITIGATION.  141 

As  to  the  rest,  the  duty  of  the  contending-  parties  may  be  ex- 
pressed in  the  following'  directions  : 

Not  to  prolong-  a  suit  by  appeals  against  your  own  conviction. 

Not  to  undertake  or  defend  a  suit  against  a  poor  adversary,  or 
render  it  more  dilatory  or  expensive  than  necessary,  with  the  hope 
of  intimidating  or  wearying  him  out  by  the.expense. 

Not  to  influence  evidence  by  authority  or  expectation. 

Nor  to.  stifle  any  in  your  possession,  although  it  make  against 
you. 

Hitherto  we  have  treated  of  civil  actions.  In  criminal  prosecu- 
tions, the  private  injury  should  be  forgotten,  and  the  prosecutor 
proceed  with  the  same  temper,  and  upon  the  same  motives,  as  the 
magistrate  ;  the  one  being  a  necessary  minister  of  justice  as  well 
as  the  other,  and  both  bound  to  direct  their  conduct  by  a  dispas- 
sionate care  of  the  public  welfare. 

In  whatever  degree  the  punishment  of  an  offender  is  conducive, 
or  his  escape  dangerous,  to  the  interest  of  the  community,  in  the 
same  degree  is  the  party  against  whom  the  crime  was  committed 
bound  to  prosecute,  because  such  prosecutions  must  iu  their  na- 
Hire  originate  from  the  sufferer. 

Therefore,  great  public  crimes,  as  robberies,  forgeries,  &c. 
ought  not  to  be  spared  from  an  apprehension  of  trouble  or  expense 
in  carrying  on  the  prosecution,  or  from  false  shame  or  misplaced 
compassion. 

There  are  many  offences,  such  as  nuisances,  neglect  of  public 
roads,  forestalling,  engrossing,  smuggling,  Sabbath-  breaking,  pro- 
fancness,  drunkenness,  prostitution,  the  keeping  of  lewd  or  dis- 
orderly houses,  the  writing,  publishing,  or  exposing  to  sale  lasci- 
vious books  or  prints,  with  some  others,  the  prosecution  of  which, 
being  of  equal  concern  to  the  whole  neighbourhood,  cannot  be 
charged  as  a  peculiar  obligation  upon  any. 

Nevertheless,  there  is  great  merit  in  the  person  who  undertakes 
such  prosecutions  upon  proper  motives  ;  which  amounts  to  the  same 


The  character  of  an  informer  is  in  this  country  undeservedly 
odious.  But  where  any  public  advantage  is  likely  to  be  attained 
by  informations,  or  other  activity  in  promoting  the  execution  of  the 
laws,  a  good  man  will  despise  a  prejudice  founded  in  no  just  reason, 
or  will  acquit  himself,  of  the  impuation  of  interested  designs  by 
.giving  away  his  share  of  the  penalty. 

On  the  other  hand,  prosecutions  for  the  sake  of  the  reward,  or 
for  the  gratification  of  private  enmity,  where  the  offence  produce? 
no  public  mischief,  or  where  it  arises  from  ignorance  or  inadver- 
13 


GRATITUDE. 


tency,  are  reprobated  under  the  general  description  of  apply  ing  /. 
•rule  of  law  to  a  purpose  for  which  it  was  not  intended.  Undei 
which  description  may  be  ranked  an  officious  revival  of  the  law- 
against  Popish  prieste  and  dissenting  teachers. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

GRATITUDE. 

EXAMPLES  of  ingratitude  check  and  discourage  voluntary  benc 
licence ;  and  in  this  the  mischief  of  ingratitude  consists.  Nor  i> 
the  mischief  small:  for  after  all  is  done  that  can  be  done,  by  pre- 
scribing general  rules  of  justice,  and  enforcing  the  observation  o! 
them  by  penalties  or  compulsion,  much  must  be  left  to  those  office- 
of  kindness  which  men  remain  at  liberty  to  exert  or  withhold. 
Now,  not  only  the  choice  of  the  objects,  but  the  quantity,  and  even 
the  existence,  of  this  sort  of  kindness  in  the  world,  depends  in  ji 
great  measure  upon  the  return  which  it  receives  ;  and  this  is  a  con- 
sideration of  public  importance. 

A  second  reason  for  cultivating  a  grateful  temper  in  ourselves. 
is  the  following  :  the  same  principle  which  is  touched  with  the  kind- 
ness of  a  human  benefactor,  is  capable  of  being  affected  by  the  di- 
vine goodness,  and  of  becoming,  Under  the  influence  of  that  affec- 
tion, a  source  of  the  purest  and  most  exalted  virtue.  The  love  of 
God  is  the  sublimest  gratitude.  It  is  a  mistake,  therefore,  to  irna- 
gine,  that  this  virtue  is  omitted  in  the  Christian  Scriptures;  for 
*very  precept  which  commands  us,  "  to  love  God,  because  he  first 
"loved  us,"  presupposes  the  principle  of  gratitude,  and  directs  it  to 
its  proper  object. 

It  is  impossible  to  particularize  the  several  expressions  of  grati- 
tude, which  vary  with  the  character  and  situation  of  the  benefactor. 
;ind  with  the  opportunities  of  the  person  obliged  ;  for  this  variety 
admits  of  no  bounds. 

It  may  be  observed,  howevc.r,  that  gratitude  can  nev-er  oblige  a 
man  to  do  what  is  wrong,  and  what  by  consequence  he  is  previously 
obliged  not  to  do.  It  is  no  ingratitude  to  refuse  to  do,  what  we  can- 
not reconcile  to  any  apprehensions  of  our  duty ;  but  it  is  ingratitude 
and  hypocrisy  together,  to  pretend  this  reason,  when  it  is  not  the 
real  one ;  and  the  frequency  of  such  pretences  has  brought  thi-. 
apology  for  non-compliance  with  the  will  of  a  benefactor  into  un- 
merited disgrace. 

It  has  long  been  accounted  a  violation  of  delicacy  and  generosi^ 
to  upbraid  men  with  the  favours  they  have  received ;  but  it  argues 


143 

*  total  destitution  01  both  these  qualities,  as  well  as  of  moral  probi- 
ty, to  take  advantage  of  that  ascendency,  which  the  conferring  ol 
benefits  justly  creates,  to  draw  or  drive  those  whom  we  have  obli- 
ged, into  mean  or  dishonest  compliance?. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 


is  acting,  both  in  philosophical  strictness,  aud  as  to 
;?.U  moral  purposes  :  for,  if  the  mischief  and  motive  of  our  conduct 
be  the  same,  the  means  we  use  make  no  difference. 

And  this  is  in  effect  what  our  Saviour  declares,  Matt.  xii.  37.— 
"  By  thy  words  thou  shalt  be  justified,  and  by  thy  words  thou 
ihalt  tie  condemned  :"  By  thy  words,  as  well,  that  is,  as  by  thy  ac- 
tions ;  the  one  shall  be  taken  into  the  account  as  well  as  the  other, 
for  they  botli  possess  the  same  property  of  voluntarily  producing 
good  or  evil. 

Slander  may  be  distinguished  into  two  kinds,  malicious  slander 
and  inconsiderate  slander. 

JTalicious  slander,  is  the  relating  of  either  truth  or  falsehood,  with 
a  conscious  purpose  of  creating  misery. 

I  acknowledge  that  the  truth  .or  falsehood  of  what,  is  related,  va- 
ries the  degree  of  guilt  considerably ;  and  that  slander,  in  the  ordi- 
nary acceptation  of  the  term,  signifies  the  circulation  of  mischiev- 
ous falsehoods;  but  truth  may  be  made  instrumental  to  the  success 
of  malicious  designs  as  well  as  falsehood ;  and  if  the  end  be  bad,  the 
means  cannot  be  innocent. 

I  think  the  idea  of  slander  ought  to  be  confined  to  the  production 
of  gratuitous  mischief.  When  we  have  an  end  or  interest  of  our 
own  to  serve,  if  we  attempt  to  compass  it  by  falsehood,  it  is  fraud ; 
if  by  a  publication  of  the  truth,  it  is  not,  without  some  additional  cir- 
cumstance of  breach  of  promise,  betraying  of  confidence,  or  the 
like,  to  be  deemed  criminal. 

Sometimes  the  pain  is  intended  for  the  person  to  whom  we  are 
speaking ;  at  other  times,  an  enmity  is  to  be  gratified  by  the  prejudice 
or  disquiet  of  a  third  person.  To  infuse  suspicions,  to  kindle  or  con- 
tinue disputes,  to  avert  the  favour  and  esteem  of  benefactors  from 
iheir  dependants,  to  render  some  one  we  dislike  contemptible  or 
obnoxious  in  the  public  opinion,  are  all  offices  of  slander  ;  of  which 
'lie  guilt  must  be  measured  by  the  intensity  and  extent  of  the  mise- 
•  v  produced. 

The  disguises  under  which  slander  is  conveyed,  whether  in  a 


144  SLANDER, 

whisper,  with  'injunctions  of  secrecy,  by  way  of  caution,  or  witi 
affected  reluctance,  are  all  so  many  aggravations  of  the  offence,  as 
they  manifest  a  more  concerted  and  deliberate  design. 

Inconsiderate  slander  is  a  different  offence,  although  the  samr 
mischief  actually  follow,  and  although  it  .might  have  been  foreseen. 
The  not  being  conscious  of  that  mischievous  design,  which  we  have- 
hitherto  attributed  to  the  slanderer,  makes  the  difference. 

The  guilt  here  consists  in  the  want  of  that  regard  to  the  conse- 
quences of  our  conduct,  which  a  just  affection  for  human  happiness, 
and  concern  for  our  duty,  would  not  have  failed  to  have  produced 
in  us.  And  it  is  no  answer  to  this  crimination  to  say,  that  we  enter- 
tained no  evil  design.  A  servant  may  be  a  very  bad  servant,  and 
yet  seldom  or  never  design  to  act  in  opposition  to  his  master's  inter 
est  or  will ;  and  his  master  may  justly  punish  such  servant,  for  a 
thoughtlessness  and  neglect,  nearly  as  prejudicial  as  deliberate  diso- 
bedience. I  accuse  you  not,  he  may  say,  of  an  express  intention  to 
hurt  me;  but  had  not  the  fear  of  my  displeasure,  the  care  of  my  inte- 
rest, and  indeed  a  ••  he  qualities  which  constitute  the  merit  of  a  good 
servant,  been  wanting  in  you,  they  would  not  only  have  excluded 
every  direct  purpose  of  giving  me  uneasiness,  but  have  been  so  far 
present  to  your  thoughts,  as  to  have  checked  that  unguarded  licen- 
tiousness, by  which  I  have  suffered  so  much,  and  inspired  you  in  its 
place  with  an  habitual  solicitude  about  the  •effects  and  tendency  ot 
what  you  did  or  said.  This  very  much  resembles  the  case  of  all 
sins  of  inconsideration  ;  and,  amongst  the  foremost  of  these,  that 
of  inconsiderate  slander. 

Information  communicated  for  the  real  purpose  of  warning,  or 
cautioning,  is  not  slander. 

Indiscriminate  praise  is  the  opposite  of  slander,  but  it  is  the  oppo- 
site extreme;  and,  however  it  may  affect  to  be  thought  excess  of- 
candour,  is  commonly  the  production  of  a  frivolous  understanding"  • 
and  sometimes  of  a  settled  Contempt  of  all  moral  distinction? 


BOOK  III. 


PART   III. 

OF  RELATIVE   DUTIES   WHICH  RESULT  FROM  THE 
CONSTITUTION  OF  THE  SEXES. 

THE  constitution  of  the  sexes  is  the  foundation  of  marriage. 

Collateral  to  the  subject  of  marriage,  are  fornication,  seduction, 
adultery,  incest,  polygamy,  divorce. 

Consequential  to  marriage,  is  the  relation  and  reciprocal  duty  of 
parent  and  child. 

We  will  treat  of  these  subjects  in  the  following  order :  first,  Of 
the  public  use  of  marriage  institutions ;  secondly,  Of  the  subjects 
collateral  to  marriage,  in  the  order  in  which  we  have  heye  propo- 
sed them ;  thirdly,  Of  marriage  itself;  and,  lastly,  Of  the  relation 
and  reciprocal  duties  of  parents  and  children. 


CHAPTER  I. 

OF  THE  PUBLIC  USE  OF  MARRIAGE  INSTITUTIONS. 
THE  public  use  of  marriage  institutions  consists  in  their  promo- 
ting the  following  beneficial  effects : 

1.  The  private  comfort  of  individuals,  especially  of  the  female 
sex.  It  may  be  true,  that  all  are  not  interested  in  this  reason ;  ne- 
vertheless, it  is  a  reason  to  all  for  abstaining  from   any  conduct 
which  tends  in  its  general  consequence  to  obstruct  marriage :  what- 
ever promotes  the  happiness  of  the  majority,  is  binding  upon  the 
whole. 

2.  The  production  of  the  greatest  number  of  healthy  children, 
their  better  education,  and  the  making  of  due  provision  for  theu 
settlement  in  life. 

13* 


146  FORNICATION 

3.  The  peace  of  human  society,  in  cutting  off  a  principal  source 
of  contention,  by  assigning  one  or  more  women  to  one  man,  and 
protecting  his  exclusive  right  by  sanctions  of  morality  and  law. 

4.  The  better  government  of  society,  by  distributing  the  com- 
munity into  separate  families,  and  appointing  over  each  the  autho- 
rity of  a  master  of  a  family,  which  has  more  actual  influence  than 
all  civil  authority  put  together. 

5.  The  same  end,  in  the  additional  securit)'  which  the  state  re- 
ceives for  the  good  behaviour  of  its  citizens,  from  the  solicitude 
(hey  feel  for  the  welfare  of  their  children,  and  from  their  being 
confined  to  permanent  habitations. 

6.  The  encouragement  of  industry. 

Some  ancient  nations  appear  to  have  been  more- sensible  of  the 
importance  of  marriage  institutions  than  we  are.  The  Spartans, 
obliged  their  citizens  to  marry  by  penalties,  and  the  Romans  en- 
couraged theirs  by  the  jus  trium  liberorum.  A  man  who  had  no 
child,  was  entitled  by  the  Roman  law  only  to  one  half  of  any  le- 
gacy that  should  be  left  him,  that  is,  at  the  most,  could  only  re- 
ceive one  half  of  the  testator's  fortune. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

FORNICATION. 

THE  first  and  great  mischief,  and  by  consequence  the  guilt,  oi 
promiscuous  concubinage,  consists  in  its  tendency  to  diminish  mar- 
riages, and  thereby  to  defeat  the  several  public  and  beneficial  pur- 
poses enumerated  in  the  preceding  chapter. 

Promiscuous  concubinage  discourages  marriage,  by  abating  tile 
chief  temptation  to  it.  The  male  part  of  the  species  will  not  un- 
dertake the  incumbrance,  expense,  and  restraint  of  married  life,  il 
they  can  gratify  their  passions  at  a  cheaper  price ;  and  they  will 
undertake  any  thing  rather  than  not  gratify  them. 

The  reader  will  learn  to  comprehend  the  magnitude  of  this  mis- 
chief, by  attending  to  the  importance  and  variety  of  the  uses  to 
which  marriage  is  subservient;  and  by  recollecting  withal,  that  the 
malignity  and  moral  quality  of  each  crime  is  not  to  be  estimated 
by  the  particular  effect  of  one  offence  or  of  one  person's  offend- 
ing, but  by  the  general  tendency-  and  consequence  of  crimes  of  the 
same  nature.  The  libertine  may  not  be  conscious  that  these  ir- 
regularities hinder  his  own  marriage,  from  which  he  is  deterred,  he 
•nay  allege,  by  many  different  considerations;  much  lesjs  does  he 


FORNICATION. 


147 


perceive  how  his  indulgencies  can  hinder  other  men  from  marry- 
ing :  but  what  will  he  say.  would  be  the  consequence,  if  the  same 
licentiousness  were  universal  ?  or  what  should  hinder  its  becoming 
universal,  if  it  be  innocent  or  allowable  in  him. 

2.  Fornication  supposes  prostitution;  and  prostitution  brings  and 
loaves  the  victims  of  it  to  almost  certain  misery.  It  is  no  small 
quantity  of  misery  in  the  aggregate,  which,  between  want,  disease, 
and  insult,  is  suffered  by  those  outcasts  of  human  society,  who  in- 
fest populous  cities;  the  whole  of  which  is  a  general  consequence 
of  fornication,  and  to  the  increase  and  continuance  of  which,  every 
net  and  instance  of  fornication  contributes. 

2L  Fornication*  produces  habits-  of  ungovernable  lewdness,  which 
introduce  the  more  aggravated  crimes  of  seduction,  adultery,  vio- 
lation, &c.  Likewise,  however  it  be  accounted  for,  the  criminal 
commerce  of  the  sexes  corrupts  and  depraves  the  mind  and  moral 
character  more  than  any  single  species  of  vice  whatsoever.  That 
ready  perception  of  guilt,  that  prompt  and  decisive  resolution 
•against  it,  which  constitutes  a  virtuous  character,  is  seldom  found 
in  persons  addicted  to  these  indulgences.  They  prepare  an  easy 
•admission  for  every  sin  that  seeks  it;  are,  in  low  life,  usually  the 
iirst  stage  in  men's  progress  to  the  most  desperate  villanies  ;  and  in 
high  life,  to  that  lamented  dissoluteness  of  principle,  which  mani- 
fests itself  in  a  profligacy  of  public  conduct,  and  a  contempt  of  the 
obligations  of  religion  and  of  moral  probity.  Add  to  this,  that  habits 
of  libertinism  incapacitate  and  indispose  the  mind  for  all  intellectu- 
al, moral,  and  religious  pleasures ;  which  is  a  great  loss  to  any 
man's  happiness. 

4.  Fornication  perpetuates  a  disease,  which  may  be  accounted 
one  of  the  sorest  maladies  of  human  nature,  and  the  effects  of  which 
arc  said  to  visit  the  constitution  of  even  distant  generations. 

The  passion  being  natural,  proves  that  it  was  intended  to  be  grat- 
ified ;  but  under  what  restrictions,  or  whether  without  any,  must 
he  collected  from  different  considerations. 

The  Christian  Scriptures  condemn  fornication  absolutely  and 
peremptorily.  "Out  of  the  heart,"  says  our  Saviour,  "proceed 
•;  evil  thoughts,  murders,  adulteries',  fornication,  thefts,  false  witness, 
•'blasphemies;  these  are  the  things  which  defile  a  man."  These 
are  Christ's  own  words;  and  one  word  from  him  on  the  subject  is 
hnal.  It  may  be  observed  with  what  society  fornication  is  classed ; 

*  Of  this  passion  it  has  been  truly  saiJ,  "  that  irregularity  lias  no  limits ;  that  one 
•  excess  draws  on  another  ;  that  the  most  easy,  therefore,  as  well  as  the  most  ex- 
:-  cellent  way  of  being  virtuous,  is  to  be  so  entirely."— Ogden,  Serm.  xvi. 


!48  FOB.NICAXIOK. 

>vith  murders,  thefts,  false  witness,  blasphemies.  I  do  not  nicnr 
that  these  crimes  are  all  equal,  because  they  are  all  mentioned  to- 
gether ;  but  it  proves  that  they  are  all  crimes.  The  Apostles  arc 
more  full  upon  this  topic.  One  well  known  passage  in  the  Episilc 
fo  the  Heberws  may  stand  in  the  place  of  all  others:  because,  ad- 
mitting the  authority  by  which  the  Apostles  of  Christ  spake  and 
wrote,  it  is  decisive;  "  Marriage  and  the  bed  undented,  is  hotiour- 
'  able  amongst  all  men ;  but  whoremongers  and  adulterers  God 
'will  judge;"  which  was  a  great  deal  to  say  at  a  time  when  it 
was  not  agreed,  even  amongst  philosophers,  that  fornication  was  a 
crime. 

The  Scriptures  give  no  sanction  to  those  austerities,  which  have 
been  since  imposed  upon  the  world  under  the  name  of  Christ's  re- 
ligion ;  as  the  celibacy  of  the  clergy,  the  praise  of  perpetual  vir- 
ginity, the  prohibitio  concubitus  cum  gravula uxore ;  but  with  a 
just  knowledge  of  and  regard  to  the  condition  and  interest  of  the 
human  species  have  provided,  in  the  marriage  of  one  man  with  one 
»voman  an  adequate  gratification  for  the  propensities  of  their  nature, 
and  have  restrained  them  to  that  gratification. 

The  avowed  toleration,  and  in  some  countries  the  licensing,  tax- 
ing, and  regulating  of  public  brothels,  has  appeared  to  the  people 
an  authorizing  of  fornication  ;  and  has  contributed,  with  other  cau- 
ses, so  far  to  vitiate  the  public  opinion,  that  there  is  no  practice  of 
which  the  immorality  is  so  little  thought-  of  or  acknowledged,  al- 
though there  are  few,  in  which  it  can  more  plainly  be  made  out. 
The  legislators  who  have  patronized  receptacles  of  prostitution, 
ought  to  have  foreseen  this  effect,  as  well  as  considei-ed  that  what- 
ever facilitates  fornication,  diminishes  marriages.  And  as  to  the 
apology  for  this  relaxed  discipline,  the  danger  of  greater  enormities 
if  access  to  prostitutes  were  too  strictly  watched  and  prohibited,  it 
will  be  time  enough  to  look  to  ^hat,  after  the  laws  and  magistrates 
have  done  their  utmost.  The  greatest  vigilance  of  both  will  do  nn 
more,  than  oppose  some  bounds  and  some  difficulties  to  this  inter- 
course. And,  after  all,  these  pretended  fears  are  without  founda- 
iion  in  experience.  The  men  are  in  all  respects  the  most  virtuous 
m  countries  where  the  women  are  most  chaste. 

There  is  a  species  of  cohabitation,  distinguishable,  no  doubt,  from 
promiscuous  concubinage,  and  which,  by  reason  of  its  resemblance 
10  marriage,  may  be  thought  to  participate  of  the  sanctity  and  in- 
nocence of  that  estate  :  I  mean  the  case  of  kept  mistresses,  undei 
the  favourable  circumstance  of  mutual  fidelity.  This  case  I  have 
•i.—.ird  defended  by  some  such  apology  as  the  following: — 

«  That  the  marriage  rite  being  different  in  different  countrie? 


FOHNICATIOS.  149 

'*  and  in  the  same  country  amongst  different  sects,  and  with  some 
"scarce  any  thing;  and,  moreover,  not  being  prescribed  or  even 
"mentioned  in  Scripture,  can  be  accounted  of  only  as  of  a  form 
''  and  ceremony  of  human  invention ;  that,  consequently,  if  a  man 
"  and  woman  betroth  and  confine  themselves  to  each  other,  their 
•'  intercourse  must  be  the  same,  as  to  all  moral  purposes,  as  if  they 
•'were  legally  married ;  for  the  addition  or  admission  of  a  mere 
•'  form  and  ceremony,  can  make  no  difference  in  the  sight  of  God, 
"  or  in  the  actual  nature  of  right  and  wrong." 
To  all  which  it  may  be  replied, — 

1 .  If  the  situation  of  the  parties  be  the  same  thing  as  marriage, 
why  do  they  not  marry  ? 

2.  If  the  man  choose  to  have  it  in  his  power  to  dismiss  the  womau 
at  his  pleasure,  or  to  retain  her  in  a  state  of  humiliation  and  depen- 
dence inconsistent  with  the  rights  which  marriage  would  confer  up- 
on her,  it  is  not  the  same  thing. 

It  is  not  at  any  rate  the  same  thing  to  the  children. 

Again,  as  to  the  marriage  rite  being  a  mere  form,  and  that  also, 
variable,  the  same  may  be  said  of  signing  and  sealing  of  bonds, 
wills,  deeds  of  conveyance,  and  the  like,  which  yet  make  a  great 
difference  in  the  rights  and  obligations  of  the  parties  concerned 
in  them. 

And  with  respect  to  the  rite  not  being  appointed  in  Scripture ; 
— the  Scriptures  forbid  fornication,  that  is,  cohabitation  without 
marriage,  leaving  it  to  the  law  of  each  country  to  pronounce  what 
is,  or  what  makes,  a  marriage ;  in  like  manner  as  they  forbid  thefts, 
that  is,  the  taking  away  of  another's  property,  leaving  it  to  the 
municipal  law  to  fix  "what  makes  the  thing  property,  or  whose  it 
is;  which  also,  like  marriage,  depends  on  arbitrary  and  mutable 
forms. 

Laying  aside  the  injunctions  of  Scripture,  the  plain  account  of 
the  question  seems  to  be  this  :  It  is  immoral,  because  it  is  perni- 
cious that  men  and  women  should  cohabit,  without  undertaking  cer- 
tain irrevocable  obligations,  and  mutually  conferring  certain  civil 
rights;  if,  therefore,  the  law  has  annexed  these  rights  and  obliga- 
t  ions  to  certain  forms,  so  that  they  cannot  be  secured  or  undertaken 
by  any  other  means,  which  is  the  case  here,  (for  whatever  the  par- 
ties may  promise  to  each  other,  nothing  but  the  marriage  ceremony 
can  make  their  promise  irrevocable,)  it  becomes  in  the  same  de- 
gree immoral,  that  meo  and  women  should  cohabit  without  the  in- 
terposition of  these  forms. 

If  fornication  be  criminal,  all  those  incentives  which  lead  to  it- 
arc  accessaries  to  the  crime,  as  lascivious  conversation,  whcthcv 


lot)  SEDUCTION. 

expressed  in  obscene.,  or  disguised  under  modest  phrases ;  alsr 
tvanton  songs,  pictures,  books ;  the  writing,  publishing,  and  circu 
tating  of  which,  whether  out  of  frolic,  or  for  some  pitiful  profit,  i^ 
productive  of  so  extensive  a  mischief  from  so  mean  a  temptation, 
(.hat  few  crimes,  within  the  reach  of  private  wickedness,  have  more 
to  answer  for,  or  less  to  plead  in  their  excuse. 

Indecent  conversation,  and  by  parity  of  reason  all  the  rest,  arc 
forbidden  by  St.  Paul,  Eph.  iv.  29.  "Let  no  corrupt  communica- 
•'  tion  proceed  out  of  your  mouth;"  and  again,  Col.  iii.  8.  "Put  off 
-'  —filthy  communication  out  of  your  mouth." 

The  invitation,  or  voluntary  admission  of  impure  thoughts,  or  the 
suffering  them  to  get  possession  of  the  imagination,  falls  within  the 
same  description,  and  is  condemned  by  Christ,  Matt.  v.  28.  "  Who- 
*'  soever  looketh  on  a  woman  to  lust  after  her,  hath  committed 
"adultery  with  her  already  in  bis  heart."  Christ,  by  thus  enjoin- 
ing^ regulation  of  the  thoughts,  strikes  at  the  root  of  the  evil. 


CHAPTER  m. 

SEDUCTION. 

THE  seducer  practises  the  same  stratagems  to  draw  a  woman  s 
person  into  his  power,  that  a  swindler  does,  to  get  possession  of. 
your  goods,  or  money;  yet  the  law  of  honour  which  abhors  deceit, 
applauds  the  address  of  a  successful  intrigue  :  so  much  is  this  capri- 
cious rule  guided  by  names,  and  with  such  facility  does  it  accom- 
modate itself  to  the  pleasures  and  conveniency  of  higher  life  ! 

Seduction  is  seldom  accomplished  without  fraud  ;  and  the  fraud 
is  by  so  much  more  criminal  than  other  frauds,  as  the  injury  ef- 
fected by  it  is  greater,  continues  longer,  and  less  admits  of  repara 
lion. 

This  injury  is  threefold  :  to  the  woman,  to  her  family,  and  to  the 
public. 

1.  The  injury  to  the  woman  is  made  up,  of  the  misery  she  sut- 
lers from  shame,  of  the  loss  she  sustains  in  her  reputation  and  pros- 
pects of  marriage,  and  of  the  depravation  of  her  moral  principle. 

1.  This  misery  must  be  extreme,  if  we  may  judge  of  it  from 
those  barbarous  endeavours  to  conceal  their  disgrace,  to  which  wo- 
men, under  such  circumstances,  sometime*  have  recourse  :  com- 
pare this  barbarity  with  their  passionate  fondness  for  their  offspring' 
in  other  cases.  Nothing  but  an  agony  of  mind,  the  most  insuppor- 
'"oblc.  can  induce  a  woman  to  forget  her  nature,  and  the  pity  which 


-SEDUCTION.  liit 

evcu  a  stranger  would  show  to  a  helpless  and  imploring'  infant. 
It  is  true,  that  all  are  not  urged  to  this  extremity ;  but  if  any  are. 
it  affords  an  indication  of  how  much  all  suffer  from  the  same  cause. 
What  shall  we  say  to  the  authors  of  such  mischief? 

2.  The  loss  which  a  woman  sustains  by  the  ruin  of  her  rcputa 
lion,  almost  exceeds  computation.     Every  person's  happiness  de- 
pends in  part  upon  the  respect  and  reception  they  meet  with  in  the 
world ;  and  it  is  no  inconsiderable  mortification,  even  to  the  firmest 
tempers,  to  be  rejected  from  the  society  of  their  equals,  or  received 
there  with  neglect  and  disdain.     But  this  is  not  all,  nor  the  worst- 
By  a  rule  of  life,  which  it  is  not  easy  to  blame,  and  which  it  is  im- 
possible to  alter,  a  woman  loses  with  her  chastity  the  chance  oi 
marrying  at  all,  orin  any  manner  equal  to  the  hopes  she  had  been 
accustomed  to  entertain.    Now,  marriage,  whatever  it  be  to  a  man. 
is  that  from  which  every  woman  expects  her  chief  happiness. 
And  this  is  still  more  true,  in  low  life,  of  which  condition  the  wo- 
men are,  who  are  most  exposed  to  solicitations  of  this  sort.     Add 
to  this,  that  where  a  woman's  maintenance  depends  upon  her  cha- 
racter, (as  it  does,  in  a  great  measure,  with  those  who  are  to  sup- 
port themselves  by  service,)  little  sometimes  is  left  to  the  forsaken 
sufferer,  but  to  starve  for  want  of  employment,  or  to  have  recourse 
to  prostitution  for  food  and  raiment. 

3.  As  a  woman  collects  her  virtue  into  this  point,  the  loss  of  hei 
chastity  is  generally  the  destruction  of  her  moral  principle  :  and 
this  consequence  is  to  be  apprehended,  whether  the  criminal  inter- 
course be  discovered  or  not. 

II.  The  injury  to  the  family  may  be  understood  by  the  applica 
tion  of  that  infallible  rule,  "  of  doing  to  others  what  we  would  that 
•'others  should  do  unto. us." — Let  a  father  or  a  brother  say,  for 
what  consideration  they  would  suffer  this  injury  in  a  daughter  or  n 
sister :   and  whether  any,  or  even  a  total  loss  of  fortune,  would 
create  equal  affliction  and  distress.     And  when  they  reflect,  upon 
this,  let  them  distinguish,  if  they  can,  between  a  robbery  committed 
jjipon  their  property  by  fraud  or  forgery,  and  the  ruin  of  their  hap- 
piness by  the  treachery  of  a  seducer.  f 

III.  The  public  at  large  lose  the  benefit  of  the  woman's  service 
•n  her  proper  place  and  destination,  as  a  wife  and  parent.    This,  to 
,he  whole  community,  may  be  little ;  but  it  is  often  more  than  all 
the  good  which  the  seducer  does  to  the  community  can  recompense. 
Moreov  er,  prostitution  is  supplied  by  seduction  ;  and  in  proportion 
to  the  danger  there  is  of  the  woman's  betaking  herself,  after  her 
first  sacrifice,  to  a  life  of  public  lewdness,  the  seducer  is  answer 
able  for  the  multiplied  evils  to  which  his  crime  gives  birth. 


{52  ADULTERY. 

Upon  the  whole,  if  we  pursue  the  effects  of  seduction  through 
the  complicated  misery  which  it  occasions  ;  and  if  it  be  right  to 
estimate  crimes  by  the  mischief  they  knowingly  produce,  it  will 
appear  something  more  than  mere  invective  to  assert,  that  not  one- 
half  of  the  crimes  for  which  men  suffer  death  by  the  laws  of  Eng- 
land, are  so  flagitious  as  this.* 


CHAPTER  XV. 

ADULTERY. 

A  NEW  sufferer  is  introduced,  the  injured  husband,  who  receives 
a  wound  in  his  sensibility  and  affections,  the  most  painful  and  incu- 
rable that  human  nature  knows.  In  all  other  respects,  adultery 
on  the  part  of  the  man  who  solicits  the  chastity  of  a  married  wo- 
man, includes  the  crime  of  seduction,  and  is  attended  with  the  same 
mischief. 

The  infidelity  of  the  woman  is  aggravated  by  cruelty  to  her 
children,  who  are  generally  involved  in  their  parent's  shame,  and 
always  made  unhappy  by  their  quarrel. 

If  it  be  said  that  these  consequences  are  chargeable,  not  so  much 
upon  the  crime,  as  the  discovery,  we  answer,  first,  that  the  crime 
could  not  be  discovered  unless  it  were  committed,  and  that  the 
commission  is  never  secure  from  discovery ;  and  secondly,  that  if 
we  allow  of  adulterous  connexions,  whenever  they  can  hope  to 
escape  detection,  which  is  the  conclusion  to  which  this  argument 
conducts  us,  we  leave  the  husband  no  other  security  for  his  wife's 
chastity,  than  in  her  want  of  opportunity  or  temptation;  which 
would  probably  deter  most  men  from  marrying,  or  render  mar- 
riage a  state  of  jealousy  and  continual  alarm  to  the  husband,  which 
would  end  in  the  slavery  and  confinement  of  the  wife. 

The  vow,  by  which  married  persons  mutually  engage  their  fide- 
lity, is  "witnessed  before  God,"  and  accompanied  with  circum- 
stances of  solemnity  and  religion,  which  approach  to  the  nature  of 
an  oath.  The  married  offender  therefore  incurs  a  crime  little  short 
of  perjury,  and  the  seduction  of,  a  "married  woman  is  little  less 
than  subornation  of  perjury ; — and  this  guilt  is  independent  of  the 
discovery. 

*  Yet  the  law  has  provided  no  punishment  for  this  offence  beyond  a  pecuniary 
satisfaction  to  the  injured  family;  and  this  can  only  be  come  at,  by  one  of  the 
quaintest  fictions  in  the  world,  by  the  father's  bringing  his  action  against  the  sedu- 
cer, for  the  loss  of  his  daughter's  service,  during  her  pregnancy  and  nurturing. 


ADULTERY. 

All  behaviour  which  is  designed,  or  which  knowingly  tends,  to 
•captivate  the  affection  of  a  married  woman,  is  a  barbarous  intru- 
sion upon  the  peace  and  virtue  of  a  tamily,  though  it  tall  short  ol 
adultery. 

The  usual  and  onlj  apology  for  adultery,  is  the  prior  transgression 
of  the  other  party.  There  are  degrees,  no  doubt,  in  this,  as  in 
other  crimes  ;  and  so  far  as  the  bad  effects  of  adultery  are  antici- 
pated by  the  conduct  of  the  husband  or  wife  who  offends  first,  the 
guilt  of  the  second  offender  is  extenuated.  But  this  can  never 
amount  to  a  justification ;  unless  it  could  be  shown  that  the  obliga- 
tion of  the  marriage  vow  depends  upon  the  condition  of  reciprocal 
fidelity";  for  which  construction  there  appears  no  foundation,  either 
in  expediency,  or  in  the  terms  of  the  promise,  or  in  the  design  oi 
the  legislature  which  prescribed  the  marriage  rite.  Moreover, 
the  rule  contended  for  by  this  plea,"  has  a  manifest  tendency  to  mul- 
tiply the  offence,  but  none  to  reclaim  the  offender. 

The  way  of  considering  the  offence  of  one  party  as  a^roi-oca- 
tion  to  the  other,  and  the  other  as  only  retaliating  the  injury  by 
repeating  the  crime,  is  a  childish  trifling  with  words. 

'"  Thou  shalt  not  commit  adultery,"  was  an  interdict  delivered 
by  God  himself.  •  By  the  Jewish  law,  adultery  was  capital  to  bofli 
parties  in  the  crime:  "Even  he  that  committeth  adultery  with  his 
''neighbour's   wife,   the   adulterer  and  adulteress  shall  surely  be 
"put  to  death." — Levit.  xx.  10.     Which  passages  prove,  that  the 
Divine  Legislator  placed  a  great  difference  between  adultery  and 
fornication.     And  with  this  agree  the  Christian  Scriptures  :  for,  in 
almost  all  the  catalogues  they  have  left  us  of  crimes  and  criminals, 
they  enumerate  "fornication,  adultery,  whoremongers,  adulterers," 
(Matthew,  xv.   19.     1   Cor.  vi.  9.     Gal.  v.  9.     Heb.  xiii.  4;)  by 
which  mention  of  both,  they  show  that  they  did  not  consider  them 
as  the  same  ;  but  that  the  crime  of  adultery  was,  in  their  appre- 
hension, distinct  from  and  accumulated  upon,  that  of  fornication. 
The  history  of  the  woman  taken  fe  adultery,  recorded  in  the 
eighth  chapter  of  St.  John's  Gospel,  has  be.en  thought  by  some  to 
give    countenance  to    that  crime.     As    Chlist  told  the    woman, 
•;  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee,"  we  must  believe,  it  is  said,  that  he 
deemed  her  conduct  either  not  criminal,  or  not  a  crime,  however, 
of  the  heinous  nature  we  represent  it  to  be.     A  more  attentive 
examination  of  the  case,  will,  I  think,  convince  us,  that  nothing 
can  be  concluded  from  it  as  to  Christ's  opinion  concerning  adulte 
ry,  either  one  way  or  the  other.     The  transaction  is  thus  related  ; 
-Early  in  the  morning  Jesus  came  again  into  the  Temple,  and 
"all  the  people  came   unto  him:  and   he  sat  down  and  taught 
14 


154 

"  them.     Aud  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  brought  unto  him  a  wo- 

"  man  taken  in  adultery  ;  and  when  they  had  set  her  in  the  midst. 

"  they  say  unto  him,  Master,  this  woman  was  taken  in  adultery, 

"  in  the  very  act :  now  Moses,  in  the  law,  commanded  that  such 

'•<•  should  be  stoned  ,  but  what  sayest  thou?  This  they  said  tempt- 

"ing  him,  that  they  might  have  to  accuse  him.     But  Jesus  stoop- 

'•'  ed  down,  and  with  his  finger  wrote  011  the  ground,  as  though  he 

' '  heard  them  not.   So  when  they  continued  asking  him,  he  lifted  up 

"  himself,  and  said  unto  them,  He  that  is  without  sin  amongst  you, 

il let  him  first  cast  a  stone  at  her:  and  again  he  stooped  down  and 

"  wrote  on  the  ground :  and  they  which  heard  it,  being  convicted  by 

"  their  own  conscience,  went  out,  one  by  one,  beginning  at  the  el- 

"dest,  even  unto  the  last ;  and  Jesus  was  left  alone,  and  the  woman 

"  standing  in  the  midst.  When  Jesus  had  lifted  up  himself,  and  saw 

:t  none  but  the  woman,  he  said  .unto  her,  Woman,  where  are  those 

"  thine  accusers  ?  hath  no  man  condemned  thee  ?  She  said  unto 

"him,  No  man,  Lord.     And  he  said  unto  her,  Neither  do  I  con- 

"  demn  thee;  go,  and  sin  no  more." 

"  This  they  said  tempting  him,  that  they  might  have  to  accuse 
"  him ;"  to  draw  him,  that  is,  into  an  exercise  of  judicial  authority, 
that  they  might  have  to  accuse  him  before  the  Roman  governor,  of 
usurping  or  intermeddling  with  the  civil  government.     This  was 
their  design  ;  and   Christ's  behaviour  throughout  the  whole  affair 
proceeded  from  a  knowledge  of  this  design,   and  a  determination 
to  defeat  it.     He  gives  them  at  first  a  cold  and  sullen   reception, 
well  suited  to  the  insidious  intention  with  which  they  came :   "  He 
"  stooped  down,  and  with  his  finger  wrote  on  the  ground,  as  though 
"  he  heard  them  not."     "  When  they  continued  asking  him,"  when 
they  teased  him  to  speak,  he  dismissed  them  with  a  rebuke,  which 
the  impertinent  malice  of  their  errand,  as  well  as  the  sacred  cha- 
racter of  many  of  them,  deserved  :  "  He  that  is  without  sin  (that 
is,  this  sin)  among  you,  let  him  first  cast  a  stone  at  her."     This  had 
its  effect.     Stung  with  the  reproof,  and  disappointed  of  their  aim. 
they  stole  away,  one  by  one,  and  left  Jesus  and  the  woman  alone. 
And  then  follows  theo;6nversation,  which  is  the  part  of  the  narra- 
tive most  material  to  our  present  subject.     "  Jesus  saith  unto  her, 
"Woman  where  are  those  thine  accusers?  hath  no  man  condemn- 
"edthee?    She  said,  No  man  Lord.     And  Jesus  said  unto  her, 
•'Neither  do  I  condemn  thee;  go  and  sin  no  more."     Now  when 
Christ  asked  the  woman,  "  Hath  no  man  condemned  thee  ?"  he  cer- 
tainly spoke,  and  was  understood  by  the  woman  to  speak,  of  a  legal 
and  judicial  condemnation ;   otherwise,    her  answer,    "  No  man, 
Lord,"  was  not  true.     In  every  other  sense  of  condemnation,  as 


TKCEST.  Jo," 

blame,  censure,  reproof,  private  judgment,  and  tlie  like,  many 
Jiad  condemned  her :  all  those  indeed  who  brought  her  to  Jesus. 
If  then  a  judicial  sentence  was  what  Christ  meant  by  condemning 
in  the  question,  the  common  use  of  language  requires  us  to  suppose 
that  he  meant  the  same  in  his  reply,  "  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee," 
i.  e.  I  pretend  to  no  judicial  character  or  authority  over  thee ;  it  is 
no  office  or  business  of  mine  to  pronounce  or  execute  the  sentence 
of  the  law. 

When  Christ  adds,  "  Go  and  sin  no  more,"  he  in  effect  tells  her. 
that  she  had  sinned  already ;  but  as  to  the  degree  or  quality  of  the 
sin,  or  Christ's  opinion  concerning  it,  nothing  is  declared,  or  can  be 
inferred,  either  way. 

Adultery,  which  was  punished  with  death  during  the  Usurpation, 
is  now  regarded  by  the  law  of  England  as  only  a  civil  injury  ;  for 
which  the  imperfect  satisfaction  that  money  can  afford,  may  be  re- 
covered by  the  husband. 


CHAPTER   V. 

INCEST. 

IN  order  to  preserve  chastity  in  families,  and  between  persons  of 
different  sexes,  brought  up  and  living  together  in  a  state  of  unre- 
served intimacy,  it  is  accessary  by  every  method  possible  to  incul- 
cate an  abhorrence  of  incestuous  conjunctions ;  which  abhorrence 
can  onlv  be  upheld  by  the  absolute  reprobation  of  all  commerce  of 
the  sexes  between  near  relations.  Upon  this  principle,  the  mar- 
riage', as  well  a?  other  cohabitations  of  brothers  and  sisters,  of  lineal 
kindred,  and  of  all  who  usually  live  in  the  same  family,  may  be  said 
to.be  forbidden  by  the  law  of  nature. 

Restrictions  which  extend  to  remoter  degrees  of  kindred  than 
what  this  reason  makes  it  necessary  to  prohibit  front  intermarriage, 
are  founded  in  the  authority  of  the  positive  law  which  ordains  them, 
and  can  only  be  justified  by  their  tendency  to  diffuse  wealth,  to 
connect  families,  or  promote  some  political  advantage. 

The  Levitical  law,  which  is  received  in  this  country,  and  from 
which  the  rule  of  the  Roman  law  differs  very  little,  prohibits  mar- 
riage between  relations,  within  three  degree's  of  kindred  ;  compu- 
ting the  generations  through  the  common  ancestor,  and  accounting 
affinity  the  same  as  consanguinity.*  The  issue,  however,  of  such 

*The  Roman  law  continued  the  prohibition  without  limits  to  the  descendants  of 
brothers  and  sisters.  In  the  Levitical  or  English  law,  there  is  nothing  to  hinder  a 
man  from  marrying  his  great  niece. 


156  POLYGAMY. 

marriages  are  not  bastardized,  unless  the  parents  be  divorced  du- 
ring their  lifetime. 

The  Egyptians  are  said  to  have  allowed  of  the  marriage  ot 
brothers  and  sisters.  Amongst  the  Athenians,  a  very  singular  reg- 
ulation prevailed  ;  brothers  and  sisters  of  the  half  blood,  if  related 
by  the  father's  side,  might  marry ;  if  by  the  mother's  side,  they 
were  prohibited  from  marrying.  The  same  custom  also  probably 
obtained  in  Chaldea  so  early  as  the  age  in  which  Abraham  left  it ; 
for,  he  and  Sarah  his  wife  stood  in  this  relation  to  each  other: 
•'And  yet,  indeed,  she  is  my  sister;  she  is  the  daughter  of  my 
"  father,  but  not  of  my  mother  ;  and  she  became  my  wife,"  Gen, 
xx.  12. 


CHAPTER   VI, 

POLYGAMY. 

THE  equality*  in  the  number  of  males  and  females  born  into  the 
world,  intimates  the  intention  of  God,  that  one  woman  should  be 
assigned  to  one  man  ;  for,  if  to  one  man  be  allowed  an  exclusive 
right  to  five  or  more  women,  four  or  more  men  must  be  deprived 
of  the  exclusive  possession  of  jiny  ;  which  could  never  be  the  or- 
der intended. 

It  seems  also  a  pretty  significant  indication  of  the  Divine  will, 
that  he  at  first  created  only  one  woman  to  one  mam  Had  God 
intended  polygamy  for  the  species,  it  is  probable  lie  would  have 
begun  with  it  ;  especially  as,  by  giving  to  Adam  more  wives-  than 
one,  the  multiplication  of  the  human  race  would  have  proceeded 
with  a  quicker  progress. 

Polygamy  not  only  violates  the  constitution  of  nature,  and  the 
apparent  desig-n  of  the  Deity,  but  produces  to  the  parties  them- 
selves, and  to  the  public,  the  following  bad  effects  :  contests  and 
jealousies  amongst  the  wives  of  the  same  husband  ;  distracted 
affections,  or  the  loss  of  all  affection  in  the  husband  himself;  a  vo- 
luptuousness in  the  rich,  which  dissolves  the  vigour  of  their  intel- 
lectual as  well  as  active  faculties,  producing  that  indolence  and 
imbecility  both  of  mind  and  body,  which  have  long  characterized 
the  nations  of  the  East ;  the  abasement  of  one  half  the  human 

*This  equality  is  not  exact.  The  number  of  male  infants  exceeds  that  of  fe- 
males in  the  proportion  of  nineteen  to  eighteen,  or  thereabouts  ;  which  excess  pro  ( 
vides  for  the  greater  consumption  of  males  by  war,  seafaring,  and  other  danger- 
ous or  unhealthy  occupations. 


157 

species,  who,  in  countries  where  polygamy  obtains,  are  degraded* 
iuto  mere  instruments  of  physical  pleasure  to  the  other  half;  ne- 
giect  of  children  ;  a.id  the  manifold,  and  sometimes  unnatural  mis- 
chiefs, which  arise  from  a  scarcity  of  women.  To  compensate 
for  these  evils,  polygamy  does  not  offer  a  single  advaatage.  In  the 
article  of  population,  which  it  has  been  thought  to  promote,  the 
community  gain  nothing;*  for  the  question  is  not  whether  one 
man  will  have  more  children  by  five  or  more  wives  than  by  one  ; 
but  whether  these  five  wives  would  not  bear  the  same,  or  a  greater 
number  of  children  to  five  separate  husbands.  And  as  to  the  care 
of  the  children  when  produced,  and  the  sending  of  them  into  the 
world  in  situations  in  which  they  may  be  likely  to  form  and  bring- 
up  families  of  their  own,  upon  which  the  increase  and  succession 
of  the  human  species  in  a  great  degree  depends;  this  is  less  pro- 
vided for,  and  less  practicable,  where  twenty  or  thirty  children  are 
to  be  supported  by  the  attention  and  fortunes  of  one  father,  than  if 
they  were  divided  into  five  or  six  families,  to  each  of  which  were 
assigned  the  industry  and  inheritance  of  two  parents. 

Whether  simultaneous  polygamy  was  permitted  by  the  law  of 
Mosesj  seems  doubtful  ;f  but  whether  permitted  or  not,  it  was  cer- 
tainly practised  by  :he  Jewish  patriarchs,  both  before  that  law,  and 
under  it.  The  permission,  if  there  was  any,  might  be  like  that  of 
divorce,  "for  the  hardness  of  their  heart,"  in  condescension  to 
their  established  indulgences  rather  than  from  the  general  recti- 
tude or  propriety  of  the  thing  itself.  The  state  of  manners  in  Ju- 
dea  had  probably  undergone  a  reformation  in  this  respect  before 
the  time  of  Christ,  for  in  the  New  Testament  we  meet  with  no 
trace  or  mention  of  any  such  practice  being  tolerated. 

For  which  reason,  and  because  it  was  likewise  forbidden  amongst 
the  Greeks  and  Romans,  we  cannot  expect  to  find  any  express  law 

*  Nothing,  I  mean,  compared  with  a  state  in  which  marriage  is  nearly  universal. 
Where  marriages  are  less  general,  and  many  women  unfruitful  from  the  want  of 
husbands,  polygamy  might  at  first  add  a  little  to  population,  and  but  a  little  ;  for, 
as  a  variety  of  wives  would  be  sought  chiefly  from  temptations  of  voluptuousness, 
it  would  rather  increase  the  demand  for  female  beauty,  than  for  the  sex  at  large. 
And  this  little  would  soon  be  made  less  by  many  deductions.  For,  firstly,  as  none 
but  the  opulent  can  maintain  a  plurality  of  wives,  where  polygamy  obtains,  the 
rich  indulge  in  it,  while  the  rest  take  up  with  a  vague  and  barren  incontinency. 
And,  secondly,  women  would  grow  less  jealous  of  their  virtue,  when  they  h.ad 
nothing  for  which  to  reserve  it,  but  a  chamber  in  the  harum  :  when  their  chastity 
was  no  longer  to  be  rewarded  with  the  rights  and  happiness  of  a  wife,  as  enjoyed 
under  the  marriage  of  one  woman  to  one  man.  These  considerations  may  be  ad- 
ded to  what  is  mentioned  in  the  text  concerning  the  easy  and  early  settlement  ot 
children  :n  the  world. 

f  See  Deut.  xvii.  17.    wi.  15- 
"14* 


POLYGAMY. 

upon  the  subject  in  the  Christian  code.  The  words  of  Christ,  f 
Matt.  xix.  9.  may  be  construed  by  an  easy  implication  to  prohibit 
polygamy ;  for,  if  "  whosoever  putteth  away  his  wife,  and  marrieth 
•<  another,  committeth  adultery,"  he  who  marrieth  another  without 
putting  away  his  first,  is  no  less  guilty  of  adultery;  because  the 
adultery  does  not  consist  in  the  repudiation  of  the  first  wife  (for. 
however  unjust  or  cruel  that  may  be,  it  is  not  adultery,)  but  in  en- 
tering into  a  second  marriage,  during  the  legal  existence  and  obli- 
gation of  the  first.  The  several  passages  in  St.  Paul's  writings 
which  speak  of  marriage,  always  suppose  it  to  signify  the  union  of 
one  man  with  one  woman.  Upon  this  supposition  he  argues,  Rom. 
vii.  2,  3.  "  Know  ye  not,  brethren,  (for  I  speak  to  them  that  know 
"the  law,)  how  that  the  law  hath  dominion  over  a  man  as  long  as 
"he  liveth  ?  For  the  woman  which  hath  an  husband,  is  bound  by 
"  the  law  to  her  husband,  so  long  as  he  liveth ;  but  if  the  husband 
c'be  dead,  she  is  loosed  from  the  law  of  her  husband  :  so  then,  ii 
"while  her  husband  liveth  she  be  married  to  another  man,  she 
"shall  be  called  an  adulteress."  When  the  same  Apostle  permits 
marriage  to  his  Corinthian  converts,  (which,  "  for  the  present  dis- 
"  tress,"  he  judges  to  be  inconvenient,)  he  restrains  the  permission 
to  the  marriage  of  one  husband  with  one  wife  :  "  It  is  good  for  a 
"  man  not  to  touch  a  woman ;  nevertheless,  to  avoid  fornication, 
"let  every  man  have  his  own  wife,  and  let  every  woman  have  her 
"  own  husband." 

The  manners  of  different  countries  have  varied  in  nothing  more 
lhan  in  their  domestic  constitutions.  Less  polished  and  more  luxu- 
rious nations  have  either  not  perceived  the  bad  effects  of  polygamy, 
or,  if  they  did  perceive  them,  they  who  in  such  countries  possessed 
the  power  of  reforming  the  laws,  have  been  unwilling  to  resign 
their  own  gratifications.  Polygamy  is  retained  at  this  day  among- 
the  Turks,  and  throughout  every  part  of  Asia  in  which  Christiani- 
iy  is  not  professed.  In  Christian  countries  it  is  universally  prohi- 
bited. In  Sweden  it  is  punished  with  death.  In  England,  besides 
the  nullity  of  the  second  marriage,  it  subjects  the  offender  to  im- 
prisonment and  branding  for  the  first  offence,  and  to  capital  punish- 
ment for  the  second.  And  whatever  may  be  said  in  behalf  of  poly- 
gamy, when  it  is  authorized  by  the  law  of  the  land,  the  marriage  of 
a  second  wife  during  the  life-time  of  the  first,  in  countries  where 
such  a  second  marriage  is  void,  must  be  ranked  with  the  most  dan  - 

f  '.'  I  say  unto  you,  Whosoever  shall  put  away  las  wife,  except  it  be  for  fornica 
Hon,  and  shall  marry  another,  committeth  adultery." 


15'J 

gerous  and  cruel  of  those  frauds,  by  which  a  woman  is  cheated  out 
of  her  fortune,  her  person,  and  her  happiness. 

The  ancient  Medes  compelled  their  citizens,  in  one  canton,  to 
take  seven  wives;  in  another,  each  woman  to  receive  five  hus- 
bands ;  according  as  war  had  made,  in  one  quarter  of  their  coun- 
try, an  extraordinary  havock  among  the  men,  or  the  women  had 
been  carried  away  by  an  enemy  from  another.  This  regulation  - 
so  far  as  it  was  adapted  to  the  proportion  which  subsisted  between 
the  numbers  of  males  and  females,  was  founded  in  the  reason  up- 
on which  the  most  improved  nations  of  Europe  proceed  at  present. 

Caesar  found  amongst  the  inhabitants  of  this  island  a  species  of 
polygamy,  if  it  may  be  so  called,  which  was  perfectly  singular. 
Uxores,  says  he,  habent  deniduodenique  inter  se  communes,  ct  max- 
ime  fratres  cum  fratribus,  parentesque  cum  liberis ;  sed  si  qui 
sunt  ex  his  nati,  eorum  habentur  liberi,  quo  primutn  virgo  qucequc 
flcducta  est. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

OF  DIVORCE. 

BY  divorce,  I  mean  the  dissolution  of  the  marriage  contract,  bj 
the  act,  and  at  the  will  of  the  husband. 

This  power  was  allowed  to  the  husband  among  the  Jews,  the 
Greeks,  and  latter  Romans;  and  is  at  this  day  exercised  by  the 
Turks  and  Persians. 

The  congruity  of  such  a  right  with  the  law  of  nature,  is  the 
question  before  us. 

And,  in  the  first  place,  it  is  manifestly  inconsistent  with  the  duty 
which  the  parents  owe  to  their  children ;  which  duty  can  never  bP 
so  well  fulfilled  as  by  their  cohabitation  and  united  care.  It  is  al- 
so incompatible  with  the  right  which  the  mother  possesses,  as  well 
as  the  father,  to  the  gratitude  of  her  children,  and  the  comfort  ot 
their  society;  of  both  which  she  is  almost  necessarily  deprived,  by 
her  dismission  from  her  husband's  family. 

Where  this  objection  does  not  interfere,  I  know  of  no  principle 
of  the  law  of  nature  applicable  to  the  question,  beside  that  of  gene- 
ral expediency. 

For,  if  we  say,  that  arbitrary  divorces  are  excluded  by  the  terms 
of  the  marriage  contract,  it  may  be  answered  that  the  contract 
might  be  framed  so  as  to  .admit  of  this  condition. 
If  we  argue  with  some  moralists,  that  the  obligation  of  a  con- 


160  DIVORCE. 

tract  naturally  continues  so  long  as  the  purpose  which  the  con- 
tracting parties  had  in  view  requires  its  continuance,  it  will  be  dif- 
ficult to  show  what  purpose  of  the  contract  (the  care  of  children 
excepted)  should  confine  a  man  to  a  woman,  from  whom  he  seeks 
to  be  loose. 

If  we  contend  with  others,  that  a  contract  cannot,  by  the  law  oi 
nature,  be  dissolved,  unless  the  parties  be  replaced  in  the  situation 
which  each  possessed  before  the  contract  was  entered  into  ;  we 
shall  be  called  upon  to  prove  this  to  be  an  universal  or  indispensa- 
ble property  of  contracts. 

I  confess  myself  unable  to  assign  any  circumstance  in  the  mar- 
riage contract,  which  essentially  distinguishes  it  from  other  con- 
tracts, or  which  proves  that  it  contains,  what  many  have  ascribed 
to  it,  a  natural  incapacity  of  being  dissolved  by  the  consent  of  the 
parties,  at  the  option  of  one  of  them,  or  either  of  them.  But  if  we 
trace  the  effects  of  such  a  rule  upon  the  general  happiness  of  mar- 
"  ried  life,  we  shall  perceive  reasons  of  expediency,  that  abundant- 
ly justify  the  policy  of  those  laws  which  refuse  to  the  husband  the 
power  of  divorce,  or  restrain  it  to  a  few  extreme  and  specific  pro- 
vocations ;  and  our  principles  teach  us  to  pronounce  that  to  be  con- 
trary to  the  law  of  nature,  which  can  be  proved  to  be  detrimental 
to  the  common  happiness  of  the  human  species. 

A  lawgiver,  whose  counsels  were  directed  by  views  of  general 
utility,  and  obstructed  by  no  local  impediment,  would  make  the 
marriage  contract  indissoluble  during  the  joint  lives  of  the  parties, 
for  the  sake  of  the  following  advantages  :  — 

I.  Because  this  tends  to  preserve  peace  and  concord  between 
married  persons,  by  perpetuating  their  common  interest,  and  by 
inducing  a  necessity  of  mutual  compliance. 

There  is  groat  weight  and  substance  in  both  these  considerations, 
An  earlier  termination  of  the  union  would  produce  a  separate  in- 
terest. The  wife  would  naturally  look  forward  to  the  dissolution 
of  the  partnership,  and  endeavour  to  draw  to  herself  a  fund  against 
the  time  when  she  was  no  longer  to  have  access  to  the  same  re- 
sources. This  would  beget  peculation  on  one  side,  and  mis- 
trust on  the  other ;  evils  which  at  present  very  little  disturb  the 
confidence  of  married  life.  The  second  effect  of  making  the  union 
detcrminable  only  by  death,  is  not  less  beneficial.  It  necessa- 
rily happens,  that  adverse  tempers,  habits,  and  tastes,  oftentimes 
meet  in  marriage.  In  which  case,  each  party  must  take  pains  to 
give  up  what  offends,  and  practise  what  may  gratify  the  other.  A 
man  and  woman  in  love  with  each  other,  do  this  insensibly :  but 
love  is  neither  general  nor  durable ;  and  where  that  is  wanting,  no 


DIVORCE;  161 

lessons  of  duty,  no  delicacy  of  sentiment,  will  go  half  so  far  with 
the  generality  of  mankind  and  womankind,  as  this  one  intelligible 
reflection,  that  they  must  each  make  the  best  of  their  bargain ; 
and  that,  seeing  they  must  either  both  be  miserable,  or  both  share 
in  the  same  happiness,  neither  can  find  their  own  comfort,  but  ill 
promoting  the  pleasure  of  the  other.  These  compliances,  though 
at  first  extorted  by  necessity,  become  in  time  easy  and  mutual ; 
and,  though  less  endearing  than  assiduities  which  take  their  rise 
from  affection,  generally  procure  to  the  married  pair  a  repose  and 
.satisfaction  sufficient  for  their  happiness. 

II.  Because  new  objects  of  desire  would  be  continually  sought 
after,  if  men  could,  at  will,  be  released  from  their  subsisting  en- 
gagements.    Suppose  the  husband  to  have  once  preferred  his  wife 
to  all  other  women,  the  duration  of  this  preference  cannot  be  trust- 
ed to.     Possession  makes  a  great  difference  •,  and  there  is  no  other 
security  against  the  invitations  of  novelty,  than  the  known  impos- 
sibility, of  obtaining  the  object.     Did  the  cause  which  brings  the 
sexes  together,  hold  them  together  by  the  same  force  with  which; 
it  first  attracted  them  to  each  other,  or  could  the  woman  be  restor- 
ed to  her  personal  integrity,  and  to  all  the  advantages  of  her  virgin 
estate,  the  power  of  divorce  might  be  deposited  in  the  hands  of  the 
husband  with  less  danger  of  abuse  or  inconvenience.     But  consti- 
tuted as  mankind  are,  and  injured  as  the  repudiated  wife  general- 
ly must  be,  it  is  necessary  to  add  a  stability  to  the  condition  of 
married  women,  more  secure  than  the  continuance  of  their  hus- 
band's affection  ;  and  to  supply  to  both  sides,  by  a  sense  of  duty  and 
of  obligation,  what  satiety  has  impaired  of  passion  and  of  personal 
attachment.     Upon  the  whole,  the  power  of  divorce  is  evidently 
and  greatly  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  woman ;  and  the  only  ques- 
tion appears  to  be,  whether  the  real  and  permanent  happiness  of 
one  half  of  the  species  should .  be  surrendered  to  the  caprice  and 
voluptuousness  of  the  other  ? 

We  have  considered  divorces  as  depending  upon  the  will  of  the 
husband,  because  that  is  the  way  in  which  they  have  actually  ob- 
tained in  many  parts  of  the  world :  but  the  same  objections  apply, 
in  a  great  degree,  to  divorces  by  mutual  consent ;  especially  when 
we  consider  the  indelicate  situation,  and  small  prospect  of  happi- 
ness, which  remains  to  the  party  who  opposed  his  or  her  dissent  to 
the  liberty  and  desires  of  the  other. 

The  law  of  nature  admits  of  an  exception  in  favour  of  the  inju- 
red party,  in  cases  of  adultery,  of  obstinate  desertion,  of  attempts 
upon  life,  of  outrageous  cruelty,  of  incurable  madness,  and  per- 
haps of  personal  imbecility  -,  but  by  no  means  indulges  the  same 


162  DIVORCE. 

privilege  to  mere  dislike,  to  opposition  of  humours  and  inclinations 
to  contrariety  of  taste  and  temper,  to  complaints  of  coldness,  ne- 
glect, severity,  peevishness,  jealousy;  not  that  these  reasons  arc 
trivial,  but  because  such  objections  may  always  be  alleged,  and  arc 
immpossible  by  testimony  to  be  ascertained  ;  so  that  to  allow  im- 
plicit credit  to  them,  and  to  dissolve  marriages  whenever  either 
party  thought  fit  to  pretend  them,  would  lead  in  its  effects  to  all  the 
licentiousness  of  arbitrary  divorces. 

Milton's  story  is  well  known.  Upon  a  quart-el  with  his  wife,  he 
paid  his  addresses  to  another  woman,  and  set  forth  a  public  vindi- 
cation of  his  conduct,  by  attempting  to  prove,  that  confirmed  dis- 
like was  as  just  a  foundation  for  dissolving  the  marriage  contract 
as  adultery :  to  which  position,  and  to  all  the  arguments  by  which 
it  can  be  supported,  the  above  consideration  affords  a  sufficient  an- 
swer. And  if  a  married  pair,  in  actual  and  irreconcileable  discord, 
complain  that  their  happiness  would  be  better  consulted  by  permit- 
ting them  to  determine  a  connexion,  which  is  become  odious  to  both, 
it  may  be  told  them,  that  the  same  permission,  as  a  general  rule, 
would  produce  libertinism,  dissension,  and  misery,  amongst  thou- 
sands, who  are  now  virtuous,  and  quiet,  and  happy  in  their  condi- 
tion :  and  it  ought  to  satisfy  then)  to  reflect,  that  when  their  happi- 
ness is  sacrificed,  to  the  operation  of  an  unrelenting  rule,  it  is  sa- 
crificed, to  the  happiness  of  the  community. 

The  Scriptures  seem  to  have  drawn  the  obligation  tighter  than 
the  la\v  of  nature  left  it.  "  Whosoever,"  saith  Christ,  "  shall  put 
"  away  his  wife,  except  it  be  for  fornication,  and  shall  marry  ano- 
il  ther,  committeth  adultery  ;  and  whoso  marrieth  her  which  is  put 
"  away,  doth  commit  adultery."  Matt.  xix.  9.  The  law  of  Moses, 
ibr  reasons  of  local  expediency,  permitted  the  Jewish  husband  to 
put  away  his  wife ;  but  whether  for  every  cause,  or  for  what  causes, 
appears  to  have  been  controverted  amongst  the  interpreters  of 
those  times.  Christ,  the  precepts  of  whose  religion  were  calcula- 
ted for  more  general  use  and  observation,  revokes  this  permission, 
(as  given  to  the  Jews  "  for  the  hardness  of  their  hearts,")  and  pro- 
mulgates a  law  which  was  thenceforward  to  confine  divorces  to  the 
single  cause  of  adultery  in  the  wife.  And  I  see  no  sufficient  rea- 
son to  depart  from  the  plain  and  strict  meaning  of  his  words.  The 
rule  was  new.  It  both  surprised  and  offended  his  disciples ;  yet 
Christ  added  nothing  to  relax  or  explain  it. 

Inferior  causes  may  justify  the  separation  of  husband  and  wife. 
although  they  will  not  authorize  such  a  dissolution  of  the  marriage 
contract  as  would  leave  either  at  liberty  to  marry  again ;  for  it  is 
(hat  liberty  in  which  the  danger  and  mischief  of  divorces  principal- 


DIVORCE.  163 

ly  consist.  If  the  care  of  children  does  not  require  that  they 
should  live  together,  and  it  is  become,  in  the  serious  judgment  of 
both,  necessary  for  their  mutual  happiness  that  they  should  sepa- 
rate, let  them  seperate  by  consent.  Nevertheless,  this  necessity 
can  hardly  exist,  without  guilt  and  misconduct  on  one  side  or  on 
both.  Moreover,  cruelty,  ill  usage,  extreme  violence,  or  morose- 
ness  of  temper,  or  other  great  and  continued  provocations,  make  if 
lawful  for  the  party  aggrieved  to  withdraw  from  the  society  of  the 
offender  without  his.  or  her  consent.  The  law  which  imposes  the 
marriage  vow,  whereby  the  parties  promise  to  "keep  to  each 
"  other,"  or,  in  other  words,  to  live  together,  must  be  understood 
to  impose  it  with  a  silent  reservation  .of  these  cases  ;  because  the 
same  law  has  constituted  a  judicial  relief  from  the  tyranny  of  the 
husband,  by  the  divorce  a  mensa  ettoro,  and  by  the  provision  which 
it  makes  for  the  separate  maintenance  of  the  injured  wife.  St. 
Paul  likewise  distinguishes  between  a  wife's  merely  separating  her- 
self from  the  family  of  her  husband,  and  marrying  again ; — "Let 
"  not  the  wife  depart  from  her  husband  ;  but,  and  if  she  do  depart, 
"let  her  remain  unmarried." 

The  law  of  this  country,  in  conformity  to  our  Saviour's  injunction, 
confines  the  dissolution  of  the  marriage  contract  to  the  single  case 
of  adultery  in  the  wife  ;  and  a  divorce  even  in  that  case,  can  only 
be  brought  about  by  the  operation  of  an  act  of  Parliament,  found- 
ed upon  a  previous  sentence  in  the  spiritual  court,  and  a  verdict 
against  the  adulterer  at  common  law ;  which  proceedings,   taken 
together  compose  as  complete  an  investigation  of  the  complaint  as 
a  cause  can  receive.     It  has  lately  been  proposed  to  the  legislature 
to  annex  a  clause  to  these  acts,  restraining  the  offending  party  from 
marrying  with  the  companion  of  her  crime,  who,  by  the  course  of 
proceeding,  is  always  known  and  convicted ;  for  there  is  reason  to 
fear,  that  adulterous  connexions  are  often  formed  with  the  prospect 
of  bringing  them  to  this  conclusion  ;  at  least,  when  the  seducer  has 
once  captivated  the  affection  of  a  married  woman,  he  may  avail 
himself  of  this  tempting  argument  to  subdue  her  scruples,  and  com- 
plete his  victory ,  and  the  legislature,  as  the  business  is  managed 
at  present,   assists  by  its  interposition  the  criminal  design  of  the 
offenders,  and  confers  a  privilege  where  it  ought  to  inflict  a  punish- 
ment.    The  proposal  deserved  an  experiment ;  but  something  more 
penal  will,  I  apprehend,  be  found  necessary  to  check  the  progress 
of  this  alarming  depravity.     Whether  a  law  might  not  be  framed, 
directing  the  fortune  of  the  adulteress  to  descend,  as  in  case  of  her 
natural  death  ;  reserving,  however  a  certain  proportion  of  the  pro- 
duce of  it,  by  way  of  annuity,  for  her  subsistence,  (such  annuity. 


164  MARRIAGE, 

in  no  case,  to  exceed  a  certain  sum,)  and  also  so  far  suspending  the 
estate  in  the  hands  of  the  heir,  as  to  preserve  the  inheritance  to  any 
children  she  might  bear  to  a  second  marriage,  in  case  there  was 
none  to  succeed  in  the  place  of  their  mother  by  the  first :  whether, 
I  say,  such  a  law  would  not  render  female  virtue  in  higher  life- 
less vincible,  as  well  as  the  seducers  of  that  virtue  less  urgent  in 
their  suit,  we  recommend  to  the  deliberation  of  those  who  are  wil- 
ling to  attempt  the  reformation  of  this  important,  but  most  incor- 
rigible, class  of  the  community.  A  passion  for  splendour,  for  ex- 
pensive amusement  and  distinctions,  is  commonly  found  in  that 
description  of  women  who  would  become  the  objects  of  such  a  law, 
not  less  inordinate  than  their  other  appetites.  A  severity  of  the 
kind  we  propose,  applies  immediately  to  that  passion.  And  there 
is  no  room  for  any  complaint  of  injustice,  since  the  provisions 
above  stated,  with  others  which  might  be  contrived,  confine  the 
punishment,  so  far  as  it  is  possible,  to  the  person  of  the  offender, 
suffering  the  estate  to  remain  to  the  heir,  or  within  the  family  of 
the  ancestor  from  whom  it  came,  or  to  attend  the  appointments  of 
his  will. 

Sentences  of  the  ecclesiastical  courts,  which  release  the  parties 
a  vinculo  matrimonii  by  reason  of  im puberty,  frigidity,  consangu- 
nity  within  the  prohibited  degrees,  prior  to  marriage,  or  want  of 
the  requisite  consent  of  parents  or  guardians,  are  not  dissolution? 
of  the  marriage  contract,  but  judicial  declarations  that  there  never 
was  any  marriage ;  such  impediment  subsisting  at  the  time,  as  ren- 
dered the  celebration  of  the  marriage  rite  a  mere  nullity.  .And 
the  right  itself  contains  an  exception  of  these  impediments.  The 
man  and  woman  to  be  married  are  charged,  "  if  they  know  any 
"  impediment  why  they  may  not  be  lawfuHy  joined  together,  to 
"  confess  it ;''  and  assured,  "  that  so  many  as  arc  coupled  together, 
"  otherwise  than  God's  word  doth  allow,  are  not  joined  together  by 
"God,  neither  is  their  matrimony  lawful;"  all  which  is  intended 
by  way  of  .solemn  notice  to  the  parties,  that  the  vow  they  are  aboul 
to  make  will  bind  their  conciences  and  authorize  their  cohabita- 
tions, only  upon  the  supposition  that  no  legal  impediment  exist-?. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

MARRIAGE. 

WHETHER  it  hath  grown  out  of  some  tradition  of  the  Divine  ap- 
pointment of  marriage  in  the  persons  of  our  first  parents,  or  mere 


SlARRIAGE.  1C5 

ij  from  a  design  to  impress  the  obligation  of  the  marriage  contract 
with  a  solemnity  suited  to  its  importance,  the  marriage  rite  in  al- 
most all  countries  of  the  world,  has  been  made  a  religious  ceremo- 
ny ;*  although  marriage,  in  its  own  nature,  and  abstracted  from 
the  rules  and  declarations  which  the  Jewish  and  Christian  Scrip- 
tures deliver  concerning  it,  be  properly  a  civil  contract  and  no- 
ihing  more. 

As  to  one  main  article  in  matrimonial  alliances,  an  alteration  has 
taken  place  in  the  fashion  of  the  world  ;  the  wife  now  brings  money 
to  her  husband,  whereas  anciently  the  husband  paid  money  to  the 
family  of  the  wife ;  as  was  the  case  among  the  Jewish  Patriarchs,  the 
Greeks,  and  the  old  inhabitants  of  Germany.^  This  alteration  has 
proved  of  no  small  advantage  to  the  female  sex;  for,  their  impor- 
tance in  point  of  fortune  procures  to  them,  in  modern  times,  that 
assiduity  and  respect  which  are  wanted  to  compensate  for  the  in- 
feriority of  their  strength;  but  which  their  personal  attractions 
would  not  always  secure. 

Our  business  is  with  marriage  as  it  is  established  in  this  country. 
And  in  treating  thereof,  it  will  be  necessary  to  state  the  terms  of 
he  marriage  vow,  in  order  to  discover, — 

1 .  What  duties  this  vow  creates. 

2.  What  situation  of  mind  at  the  time  is  inconsistent  with  it. 

3.  By  what  subsequent  behaviour  it  is  violated. 

The  husband  promises,  on  his  part,  l.1  to  love,  comfort,  honour, 
•'  and  keep  his  wife  ;"  the  wife,  on  hers,  "  to  obey,  serve,  love,  hon- 
J'  our,  and  keep  her  husband  ;"  in  every  variety  of  health,  fortune, 
and  condition;  and  both  stipulate  to  "forsake  all  others,  and 
'•'  to  keep  only  unto  one  another,  so  long  as  they  both  shall  live." 
This  promise  is  called  the  marriage  vow ;  is  witnessed  before  God 
and  the  congregation ;  accompanied  with  prayers  to  Almighty  God 
for  his  blessing  upon  it ;  and  attended  with  such  circumstances  of 
devotion  and  solemnity,  as  place  the  obligation  of  it,  and  the  guilt 
of  violating  it,  nearly  upon  the  same  foundation  with  that  of  oaths. 

The  parties  by  this  vow  engage  their  personal  fidelity  expressly 
and  specifically ;  they  engage  likewise  to  consult  and  promote  each 
other's  happiness ;  the  wife,  moreover,  promises  obedience  to  her  1ms- 

*  It  was  not,  however,  in  Christian  countries  required,  that  marriages  should  be 
celebrated  in  churches  till  the  thirteenth  century  of  the  Christian  s;ra.  Marriages 
in  England,  (luring  the  Usurpation,  were  solemnized  before  Justices  of  the  Peace  ; 
but  for  what  purpose  this  novelty  was  introduced,  except  to  degrade  the  clergy, 
Joes  not  appear. 

fThe  ancient  Assyrians  sold  their  beauties  by  an  annual  auction.    The  prices 
were  applied  by  way  of  portions  to  the  more  homely .    By  this  contrivance,  oil  of 
both  sorts  were  disposed  of  in  marriage. 
15 


166  MARRIAGE. 

band.  Nature  may  have  made  and  left  the  sexes  of  the  human  spe- 
cies nearly  equal  in  their  faculties,  and  perfectly  so  in  their  rights ; 
but  to  guard  against  those  competitions  which  equality,  or  a  contest- 
ed superiority,  is  almost  sure  to  produce,  the  Christian  Scriptures 
enjoin  upon  the  wife  that  obedience  which  she  here  promises,  and  in 
terms  so  peremptory  and  absolute,  that  it  seems  to  extend  to  every- 
thing not  criminal,  or  not  entirely  inconsistent  with  the  woman's 
happiness.  "  Let  the  wife,"  says  St.  Paul,  "  be  subject  to  her  own 
"husband  in  every  thing." — "  The  ornament  of  a  meek  and  quiet 
"  spirit,"  says  the  same  Apostle,  speaking  of  the  duty  of  wives,  "  is, 
in  the  sight  of  God,  of  great  price."  No  words  ever  expressed  the 
true  merit  of  the  female  character  so  well  as  these. 

The  condition  of  human  life  will  not  permit  us  to  say,  that  n<J 
one  can  conscientiously  marry,  who  does  not  prefer  the  person  at  the 
altar,  to  all  other  men  or  women  in  the  world  ;  but  we  can  have  no 
difficulty  in  pronouncing,  (whether  we  respect  the  end  of  the  insti- 
tution, or  the  plain  terms  in  which  the  contract  is  conceived)  that 
whoever  is  conscious,  at  the  time  of  his  marriage,  of  such  a  dislike 
to  the  woman  he  is  about  to  marry,  or  of  such  a  subsisting  at- 
tachment to  some  other  woman,  that  he  cannot  reasonably,  nor 
does,  in  fact,  expect  ever  to  entertain  an  affection  for  his  future 
wife,  is  guilty,  when  he  pronounces  the  marriage  vow,  of  a  direct 
and  deliberate  prevarication  ;  and  that,  too,  aggravated  by  the  pre- 
sence of  those  ideas  of  religion,  and  of  the  Supreme  Being,  which 
the  place,  the  ritual,  and  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion,  cannot  fail 
of  bringing  to  his  thoughts.  The  same  likewise  of  the  woman. 
This  charge  must  be  imputed  to  all  who,  from  mercenary  motives, 
marry  the  objects  of  their  aversion  and  disgust;  and  likewise  to 
those  who  desert,  from  any  motive  whatever,  the  object  of  their 
affection,  and,  without  being  able  to  subdue  that  affection,  marry 
another. 

The  crime  of  falsehood  is  also  incurred  by  the  man  who  intends, 
at  the  time  of  his  marriage,  to  commence,  renew,  or  continue  a 
personal  commerce  with  any  other  woman.  And  the  parity  of 
reasan,  if  a  wife  be  capable  of  so  much  guilt,  extends  to  her. 

The  marriage  vow  is  violated, 

I.  By  adultery. 

II.  By  any  behaviour  which,  knowingly,  renders  the  life  of  the 
other  miserable  :  as,  desertion,  neglect,  prodigality,  drunkenness, 
peevishness,  penuriousness,  jealousy,  or  any  levity  of  conduct  which 
may  administer  occasion  of  jealousy. 

A  late  regulation  in  the  law  of  marriages,  in  this  country,  has 
made  the  consent  of  the  father,  if  he  be  living,  of  the  motheiv  it 


DUTY  OP   PARENTS.  167 

^he  survive  the  father,  and  remain  unmarried,  or  of  guardians,  if 
both  parents  be  dead,  necessary  to  the  marriage  of  a  person  under 
twenty-one  years  of  age.  By  the  Roman  law,  consent  et  avi  et  pa- 
iris  was  required  so  long  as  they  lived.  In  France,  the  consent 
of  parents  is  necessary  to  the  marriage  of  sons,  until  they  attain  to 
thirty  years  of  age ;  of  daughters,  until  twenty-five.  In  Holland, 
for  sons  till  twenty-five ;  for  daughters,  till  twenty,  And  this  dis- 
tinction between  the  sexes  appears  to  be  well  founded ;  for  a  wo- 
man is  usually  as  well  qualified  for  the  domestic  and  interior  duties 
of  a  wife  or  mother  at  eighteen,  as  a  man  is  for  the  business  of  the 
world,  and  the  more  arduous  care  of  providing  for  a  family,  at 
twenty-one. 

The  constitution  also  of  the  human  species  indicates  the  same 
distinction.* 


CHAPTER    XX. 

OF  THE  DUTY  OF  PARENTS. 

THAT  virtue,  which  confines  its  beneficence  within  the  walls  of 
a  man's  own  house,  we  have  been  accustomed  to  consider  as  little 
better  than  a  more  refined  selfishness  ;  and  yet  it  will  be  confessed, 
that  the  subject  and  matter  of  this  class  of  duties,  are  inferior  to 
none  in  utility  and  importance  :  and  where,  it  may  be  asked,  is  vir- 
tue the  most  valuable,  but  where  it  does  the  most  good  ?  What  du- 
ty is  the  most  obligatory,  but  that  on  which  the  most  depends? 
And  where  have  we  happiness  and  misery  so  much,  in  our  power, 
or  liable  to  be  so  affected  by  our  conduct,  as  in  our  own  families  ?  It 
will  also  be  acknowledged,  that  the  good  order  and  happiness  of 
the  world  is  better  upheld  whilst  each  man  applies  himself  to  his 
own  concerns  and  the  care  of  his  own  family,  to  which  he  is  pre- 
sent, than  if  every  man,  from  an  excess  of  mistaken  generosity, 
should  leave  his  own  business  to  undertake  his  neighbour's  which  he 
must  always  manage  with  less  knowledge,  conveniency,  and  suc- 
cess. If,  therefore,  the  low  estimation  of  these  virtues  be  well 
founded,  it  must  be  owing,  not  to  their  inferior  importance,  but  to 
some  defect  or  impurity  in  the  motive.  And  indeed  it  cannot  be 
denied,  but  that  it  is  in  the  power  of  association  so  to  unite  our 
children's  interest  with  our  own,  as  that  we  shall  often  pursue  both 
from  the  same  motive,  place  both  in  the  same  object,  and  with  as 

*  Cum  via  proletn  procreandi  diutius  hsreat  in  mare  quam  in  fcemina,  populi 
iiiiaierus  nequaquiin  minuetur,  si  serius  vcnerem  colere  inceperint  viri. 


iCli  DUTr  OP  rAKENTS. 

little  sense  of  duly  in  one  pursuit  as  in  the  other.  Where  this  i» 
the  case,  the  judgment  above  stated  is  not  far  from  the  truth.  And 
so  often  as  we  find  a  solicitous  care  of  a  man's  own  family,  in  a  to- 
tal absence  or  extreme  penury  of  every  other  virtue,  or  interfering 
with  other  dujjes,  or  directing-  its  operation  solely  to  the  temporal 
happiness  of  the  children,  placing  that  happiness  and  amusement  in 
indulgence  whilst  they  are  young-,  or  in  advancement  of  fortune 
when  they  grow  up,  there  is  reason  to  believe,  that  this  is  the  case. 
In  this  way,  the  common  opinion  concerning  these  duties  may  beac- 
eounted  for  and  defended.  If  we  look  to  the  subject  of  them,  we  per- 
ceive them  to  be  indispensable.  If  we  regard  the  motive,  we  find 
them  often  not  very  meritorious.  Wherefore,  although  a  man  seldom 
rises  high  in  our  esteem  who  has  nothing  to  recommend  him  besides 
the  care  of  his  own  family,  yet  we  always  condemn  the  neglect  of 
this  duty  with  the  utmost  severity ;  both  by  reason  of  the  manifest  and 
immediate  mischief  which  we  see  arising  from  this  neglect,  and  be- 
cause it  argues  a  want  not  only  of  parental  affection,  but  of  those 
moral  principles,  which  ought  to  come  in  aid  of  that  affection  where 
it  is  wanting. 

And  if  on  the  other  hand,  our  praise  and  esteem  of  these  duties 
be  not  proportioned  to  the  good  they  produce,  or  to  the  indignation 
ivith  which  we  resent  the  absence  of  them,  it  is  for  this  reason. 
(.hat  virtue  is  the  most  valuable,  not  where,  in  strictness,  it  produ- 
ces the  most  good,  but  where  it  is  the  most  wanted :  which  is  not  the 
case  here ;  because  its  place  is  often  supplied  by  instincts,  or  in- 
volu/itary  associations.  Nevertheless,  the  offices  of  a  parent  may 
be  discharged,  from  a  consciousness  of  their  obligation,  as  well  as 
other  duties  ;  and  a  sense  of  this  obligation  is  sometimes  necessary 
to  assist  the  stimulus  of  parental  affecition ;  especially  in  stations 
of  life,  in  which  the  wants  of  a  family  cannot  be  supplied  without 
the  continual  hard  labour  of  the  father,  nor  without  his  refraining" 
from  many  indulgences  and  recreations  which  unmarried  men  of 
like  condition,  are  able  to  purchase.  Where  the  parental  affection 
is  sufficiently  strong,  or  has  fewer  difficulties  to  surmount,  a  prin- 
cjiple  of  duty  may  still  be  wanted  to  direct  and  regulate  its  exer- 
tions ;  for,  otherwise,  it  is  apt  to  spend  and  waste  itself  in  a  wo- 
manish fondness  for  the  person  of  the  child,  and  improvident  atten- 
tion to  his  present  ease  and  gratification  ;  a  pernicious  facility  and 
cpmpliance  with  his  humours ;  an  excessive  and  superfluous  care 
to  provide  the  externals  of  happiness,  with  little  or  no  attention 
to  the  internal  sources  of  virtue  and  satisfaction.  Universally, 
wherever  a  parent's  conduct  is  prompted  or  directed  by  a  sense  of 
duty,  there  is  so  much  virtue. 


DUTY    OF    PABJBNTS.  169 

Having  premised  thus  much  concerning  the  place  which  parent- 
il  duties  hold  in  the  scale  of  human  virtues,  we  proceed  to  state 
and  explain  the  duties  themselves. 

When  moralists  tell  us,  that  parents  are  bound  to  do  all  they 
can  for  their  children,  they  tell  us  more  than  is  true  ;  for,  at  that 
rate,  every  expense  which  might  have  been  spared,  and  every  pro- 
fit omitted  which  might  have  been  made,  would  be  criminal. 

The  duty  of  parents  has  its  limits,  like  other  duties  ;  and  ad- 
mits, if  not  of  perfect  precision,  at  least  of  rules  definite  enough 
for  application. 

These  rules  may  be  explained  under  the  several  heads  of  main- 
tenance, education,  and  a  reasonable  provision  for  the  child's  hap- 
piness in  respect  of  outward  condition. 
I.  Maintenance. 

The  wants  of  children  make  it  necessary  that  some  person  main- 
tain them ;  and,  as  no  one  has  a  right  to  burthen  others  by  bis  act, 
it  follows,  that  the  parents  are  bound  to  undertake  this  charge 
themselves.  Beside  this  plain  inference,  the  affection  of  parents 
to  their  children,  if.  it  be  instinctive,  and  the  provision  which  God 
has  prepared,  in  the  person  of  the  mother  for  the  sustentation  o 
the  infant,  concerning  the  existence  and  design  of  which  there  can 
be  no  doubt,  are  manifest  indications  of  the  Div  ine  will; 

From  hence  we  learn  the  guilt  of  those  who  run  away  from  their 
families,  or,  (what  is  much  the  same,)  in  consequence  of  idleness 
or  drunkenness,  throw  them  upon  a  parish ;  or  who  leave  them 
destitute  at  their  death,  when,  by  diligence  and  frugality,  they 
might  have  laid  up  a  provision  for  their  support :  also  of  those  who 
refuse  or  neglect  the  care  of  their  bastard  offspring,  abandoning 
them  to  a  condition  in  which  they  must  either  perish  or  become 
burthensome  to  others :  for  the  duty  of  maintenance,  like  the  rea- 
son upon  which  it  is  founded,  extends  to  bastards,  as  well  as  to  le- 
gitimate children. 

The  Christian  Scriptures;  although  they  concern  themselves  little 
with  maxims  of  prudence  or  economy,  and  much  less  authorize 
worldly-mindedness  or  avarice,  have  yet  declared  in  explicit  terms 
their  judgment  of  the  obligation  of  this. duty: — "  If  any  provide 
"  not  for  his  own,  especially  for  those  of  his  own  household  he  hath 
"  denied  the  faith,  and  is  worse  than  an  infidel,"  I  Tim.  v.  8;  he 
hath  disgraced  the  Christian  profession,  and  fallen  short  in  a  duty 
which  even  infidels  acknowledge. 
II.  Education. 

Education,  in  the  most  extensive  sense  of  the  word,  may  com- 
15* 


i*0  DUTY   OF   PARENTS. 

prebend  every  preparation  that  is  made  in  our  youth  for  the  seque! 
of  our  lives  ;  and  in  this  sense  I  use  it. 

Some  such  preparation  is  necessary  for  children  of  all  conditions, 
because,  without  it,  they  must  be  miserable,  and  probably  will  be 
vicious,  when  they  grow  up,  either  from  want  of  the  means  of  sub- 
sistence, or  from  want  of  rational  and  inoffensive  occupation.  In 
civilized  life,  every  thing-  is  effected  by  art  and  skill.  Whence  a 
person  who  is  provided  with  neither  (and  neither  can  be  acquired 
without  exercise  and  instruction)  will  be  useless;  and  he  that  i' 
useless,  will  generally  be  at  the  same  time  mischievous  to  the  com- 
munity. So  that  to  send  an  uneducated  child  into  the  world  is  in- 
jurious to  the  rest  of  mankind  ;  it  is  little  better  than  to  turn  out  n 
mad  dog  or  a  wild  beast  into  the  streets.  . 

In  the  inferior  classes  of  the  community,  this  principle  condemns 
the  neglect  of  parents,  who  do"  not  inure  their  children  betimes  to 
labour  and  restraint,  by  providing-  them  with  apprenticeships,  ser- 
vices, or  other  regular  employment,  but  suffer  tltem  to  waste  their 
youth  in  idleness  and  vagrancy,  or  to  betake  themselves  to  some 
lazy,  trifling,  and  precarious  calling  :  for,  the  consequence  of  hav- 
ing thus  tasted  the  sweets  of  natural  liberty,  at  an  age  when  their 
passion  and  relish  for  it  are  at  the  highest,  is,  that  they  become  in- 
capable, for  the  remainder  of  their  lives,  of  continued  industry,  01 
of  persevering  attention  to  any  thing;  spend  their  time  in  a  mise- 
rable struggle  between  the  importunity  of  want,  and  the  irksome- 
ness  of  regular  application  ;  and  are  prepared  to  embrace  every 
expedient  which  presents  a  hope  of  supplying  their  necessities  with- 
out confining  them  to  the  plough,  the  loom,  the  shop,  or  the  count- 
ing-house. 

In  the  middle  orders  of  society,  those  parents  are  most  reprehen- 
sible, who  neither  qualify  their  children  for  a  profession,  nor  enable 
them  to  live  without  cine  ;*  and  those  in  the  highest,  who  from  in- 
dulgence, or  avarice,  omit  to  procure  their  children  those  liberal 
attainments,  which  are  necessary  to  make  them  useful  in  the  sta- 
tions to  which  they  are  destined.  A  man  of  fortune,  who  permits 
his  son  to  consume  the  season  of  education  in  hunting,  shooting. 
or  in  frequenting  horse-races,  assemblies,  or  other  unedifying, 
though  not  vicious  diversions,  defrauds  the  community  of  a  bene- 
factor, and  bequeaths  them  a  pvusance. 

Some,  though  not  the  same,  preparation  for  the  sequel  of  their 
lives,  is  necessary  for  youth  of  every  description  ;  and  therefore  for 

*  Amongst  the  Athenians,  if  the  parent  did  not  put  his  child  into  a  way  of  get- 
ting a  livelihood,  the  child  was  not  bound  to  make  provision  for  the  parent  when 
old  and  necessitous. 


r>uxi  ov  PARENTS.  I'll 

Dastards,  as  well  as  for  children  of  better  expectations.  Consequent- 
ly they  who  leave  the  education  of  their  bastards  to  chance,  con- 
tenting themselves  with  making-  provision  for  their  subsistence,  dc 
sert  half  their  duty. 

III.  A  reasonable  provision  for  the  happiness  of  a  child,  in  re- 
spect of  outward  condition,  requires  three  things :  a  situation  suit- 
ed to  his  habits  and  reasonable  expectations  ;  a  competent  provi- 
sion for  the  exigences  of  that  situation;  and  a  probable  security 
for  his  virtue. 

The  two  first  articles  will  vary  with  the  condition  of  the  parent. 
A  situation  somewhat  approaching  in  rank  and  condition  to  the  pa- 
rent's own  ;  or,  where  that  is  not  practicable,  similar  to  what  other 
parents  of  like  condition  provide  for  their  children,  bounds  the 
reasonable,  as  well  as  (generally  speaking)  the  actual  expectations 
of  the  child,  and  therefore  -contains  the  extent  of  the  parent's  obli- 
gation. 

Hence,  a  peasant  satisfies  his  duty  who  sends  out  his  children, 
properly  Instructed  for  their  occupation,  to  husbandry,  or  to  any 
branch  of  manufacture.  Clergymen,  lawyers,  physicians,  officers 
in  the  army  or  navy,  gentlemen  possessing  moderate  fortunes  o£ 
inheritance,  or  exercising  trade  in  a  large  or  liberal  way,  are  re- 
quired, by  the  same  rule,  to  provide  their  sons  with  learned  pro- 
fessions, commissions  in  the  army  or  navy,  places  in  public  offices, 
or  reputable  branches  of  merchandise.  Providing  a  child  with  a 
situation,  includes  a  competent  supply  for  the  expenses  of  that  sit- 
uation, until  the  profits  of  it  enable  the  child  to  support  himself. 
Noblemen  and  gentlemen  of  high  rank  and  fortune  may  be  bound 
io  transmit  an  inheritance  to  the  representatives  of  their  family, 
sufficient  for  their  support  without  the  aid  of  a  trade  or  profession, 
to  which  there  is  little  hope  that ^a  youth,  who  has  been  flattered 
with  other  expectations,  will  apply  himself  with  diligence  or  suc- 
cess. In  these  parts  of  the  world,  public  opinion  has  assorted  the 
members  of  the  community  into  four  or  five  general  classes  each 
class  comprising  a  great  variety  of  employments  and  professions^ 
the  choice  of  which  must  be  committed  to  the  private  discretion  of 
ihe  parent.*  All  that  can  be  expected  from  parents  as  a  duty,  and 

*  The  health  and  virtue  of  a  child's  future  life  are  considerations  so  superior  to 
till  others,  that  whatever  is  likely  to  have  the  smallest  influence  upon  these,  de- 
serves the  parents'  first  attention.  In  respect  of  health,  agriculture,  and  all  active, 
rural,  and  out-of-door  employments,  are  to  be  preferred  to  manufactures  and  se- 
dentary occupations.  In  respect  of  virtue,  a  course  of  dealings  in  which  the  ad 
vantage  is  mutual,  in  which  the  profit  on  one  side  is  connected  with  the  benefit  ol 
the  other  (which  is  the  case  in  trade,  and  all  serviceable  art  or  labour)  is  more  fa- 
vourable to  the  moral  character,  than  callings  in  which  one  man's  gain  is  anothcs 


'  UTJTY   OF 

therefore  the  only  rule  which  a  moralist  can  deliver  upon  the  sub- 
ject is,  that  they  endeavour  to  preserve  their  children  in  the  class 
in  which  they  are  born,  that  is  to  say,  in  which  others  of  similar  ex- 
pectations are  accustomed  to  be  placed  ;  and  that  they  be  careful 
to  confine  their  hopes  and  habits  of  indulgence  to  objects  which 
will  continue  to  be  attainable. 

It  is  an  ill-judged  thrift,  in  some  rich  parents,  to  bring  up  their 
sons  to  mean  employments,  for  the  sake  of  saving  the  charge  of  a 
more  expensive  education  :  for  these  sons,  when  become  masters  of 
their  liberty  and  fortune,  will  hardly  continue  in  occupations  by 
which  they  think  themselves  -degraded,  and  are  seldom  qualified 
for  any  thing  better. 

An  attention,  in  the  first  place,  to  the  exigences  of  the  children's 
respective  conditions  in  the  world ;  and  a  regard,  in  the  second 
place,  to  their  reasonable  expectations,  always  postponing  the  ex- 
pectations to  the  exigences  when  both  cannot  be  satisfied,  ought  to 
guide  parents  in  the  disposal  of  their  fortunes  after  their  death. 
And  these  exigences  and  expectations  must  be  measured  by  the 
standard  which  custom  has  established  ;  for  there  is  a  certain  ap- 
pearance, attendance,  establishment,  and  mode  of  living,  which  cus- 
tom has  annexed  to  the  several  ranks  and  orders  of  civil  life,  (and 
which  compose  what  is  called  decency,)  together  with  a  certain 
society,  and  particular  pleasures  belonging  to  each  class:  and  a 
young  person,  who  is  withheld  from  sharing  in  these  by  want  of 
fortune,  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  a  fair  chance  for  happiness  ; 
the  indignity  and  mortification  of  such  a  seclusion  being  what  few 
tempers  can  bear,  or  bear  with  contentment.  And  as  to  the  se- 
cond consideration,  of  what  a  child  may  reasonably  expect  from 
his  parent,  he  will  expect  what  he  sees  all  or  most  others  in  simi- 

* 

man's  loss  -,  in  which,  what  you  acquire  is  acquired  without  an  equivalent,  and 
parted  with  in  distress  ;  as  in  gaming,  and  whatever  partakes  of  gaming,  and  the 
predatory  profits  of  war.  The  following  distinctions  also  deserve  notice.  A  busi- 
ness, like  a  retail  trade,  in  which  the  profits  are  small  and  frequent,  and  accruing 
from  the  employment,  furnishes  a  moderate  and  constant  engagement  to  the  mind, 
and  so  far  suits  better  with  the  general  disposition  of  mankind,  than  professions 
which  are  supported  by  fixed  salaries,  as  stations  in  the  church,  army ,  navy,  reve- 
nue, public  offices,  etc.  or  wherein  the  profits  are  made  in  large  sums,  by  a  few 
great  concerns,  or  fortunate  adventurers:  as  in  many  branches  of  wholesale  and 
foreign  merchandize,  in  which  the  occupation  is  neither  constant,  nor  the  activity 
HO  kept  alive  by  immediate  encouragement.  For  security,  manual  arts  exceed 
merchandize,  and  such  as  supply  the  wants  of  mankind  are  better  than  those 
which  minister  to  their  pleasure.  Situations  which  promise  an  early  settlement  in 
marriage,  are,  on  many  accounts,  to  be  chosen  before  those  which  rsquire  a  longer 
waiting  for  a  larger  establishment. 


DUTY   OF   PARENTS.  173 

iar  circumstances  receive  ;  arid  we  can  hardly  call  expectations 
unreasonable  which  it  is  impossible  to  suppress. 

By  virtue  of  this  rule,  a  parent  is  justified  in  making  a  difference 
between  his  children,  according  as  they  stand  in  greater  or  less 
need  of  the  assistance  of  his  fortune,  in  consequence  of  the  diffe- 
rence of  their  age  or  sex,  or  of  the  situations  in  which  they  arc 
placed,  or  the  various  success  which  they  have  met  with. 

On  account  of  the  few  lucrative  employments  which  are  left  to 
the  female  sex,  and  by  consequence  the  little  opportunity  they  have 
of  adding  to  their  income,  daughters  ought  to  be  the  particular 
objects  of  a  parent's  care  and  foresight ;  and  as  an  option  of  mar- 
riage, from  which  they  can  reasonably  expect  happiness,  is  not 
presented  to  every  woman  who  deserves  it,  especially  in  the  pre- 
sent times,  in  which  a  licentious  celibacy  seems  to  have  grown  into 
fashion  with  the  men,  a  father  should  endeavour  to  enable  his 
daughters  to  lead  a  single  life  with  independency  and  decorum, 
even  though  he  subtract  more  for  that  purpose  from  the  portions 
of  his  sons  than  is  agreeable  (o  modern  usage,  or  than  they  expect. 

But  when  the  exigences  of  their  several  situations  are  provided 
for,  and  not  before,  a  parent  ought  to  admit  the  second  considera- 
tion, the  satisfaction  of  his  children's  expectations  :  and  upon  that 
principle  to  prefer  the  eldest  son  to  the  rest,  and  sons  to  daughters  ; 
which  constitutes  the  right,  and  the  whole  right,  of  primogeniture, 
as  well  as  the  only  reason  for  the  preference  of  one  sex  to  the 
other.  The  preference,  indeed,  of  the  first-born  has  one  public 
jood  effect,  -that  if  the  estate  were  divided  equally  amongst  the 
sons,  it  would  probably  make  them  all  idle  ;  whereas,  by  the  pre- 
sent rule  of  descent,  it  makes  only  one  so  ;  which  is  the  less  evil  of 
the  two.  And  it  must  farther  be  observed,  on  the  part  of  sons, 
that  if  the  rest  of  the  community  make  it  a  rule  to  prefer  sons  to 
daughters,  an  individual  of  that  community  ought  to  guide  himself 
by  the  same  rule  upon  principles  of  mere  equality.  For,  as  the 
son  suffers  by  the  rule,  in  the  fortune  he  may  expect  in  marriage, 
it  is  but  reasonable  that  he  should  receive  the  advantage  of  it  in 
his  own  inheritance.  Indeed,  whatever  the  rule  be,  as  to  the  pre- 
ference of  one  sex  to  the  other,  marriage  restores  the  equality. 
\nd  as  money  is  generally  more  convertible  to  pi'ofit,  and  more 
likely  to  promote  industry,  in  the  hands  of  men  than  of  women,  the 
custom  of  this  country,  may  properly  be  complied  with'  when  it 
does  not  interfere  with  the  weightier  reason  explained  in  the  last 
paragraph. 

The  point  of  the  children's  actual  expectations,  together  with  the 
expediency  of  subjecting  the  illicit  commerce  of  the  sexes  to  even. 


1*4  IJUTV   Of   PARENT'S. 

discouragement  which  it  can  receive,  makes  the  difference  be- 
tween the  claims  of  legitimate  children  and  of  bastards.  But  nei- 
ther reason,  will  in  any  case  justify  the  leaving  of  bastards  to  the 
world,  without  provision,  education,  or  profession ;  or,  what  is 
more  cruel,  without  the  means  of  continuing  in  the  situation  to 
which  the  parent  has  introduced  them  ;  which  last  is,  to  leave  them 
to  inevitable  misery. 

After  the  first  requisite,  namely,  a  provision  for  the  exigences  of 
his  situation,  is  satisfied,  a  parent  may  diminish  a  child's  portion, 
in  order  to  punish  any  flagrant  crime,  or  to  punish  contumacy  and 
want  of  filial  duty  in  instances  not  otherwise  criminal ;  for  a  child 
who  is  conscious  of  bad  behaviour,  or  of  contempt  of  his  parent's 
will  and  happiness,  cannot  reasonably  expect  the  same  instances 
of  his  munificence. 

A  child's  vices  may  be  of  that  sort,  and  his  vicious  habits  so  in- 
corrigible, as  to  afford  much  the  same  reason  for  believing  that  he 
will  waste  or  mis-employ  the  fortune  put  into  his  power,  as  if  he 
were  mad  or  idiotish,  in  which  case  a  parent  may  treat  him  as  a 
madman  or  an  idiot ;  that  is,  may  deem  it  sufficient' to  provide  for 
his  support,  by  an  annuity  equal  to  his  wants  and  innocent  enjoy- 
ments, and  which  he  may  be  restrained  from  alienating.  This 
seems  to  'be  the  only  case  in  which  a  disinheritance,  nearly  abso- 
lute, is  justifiable. 

Let  not  a  father  hope  to  excuse  an  inofficious  disposition  of  his 
fortune,  by  alleging,  that  "  every  man  may  do  what  he  will  with 
•'his  own."  All  the  truth  which  this  expression  contains  is,  that 
his  discretion  is  under  no  control  of  law  ;  and  that  his  will,  how- 
ever capricious,  will  be  valid.  This  by  no  means  absolves  his  con- 
science from  the  obligations  of  a  v>arent,  or  imports  that  he  may 
neglect,  without  injustice,  the  several  wants  and  expectations  of  his 
family,  in  order  to  gratify  a  whim  or  a  pique,  or  indulge  a  prefe- 
rence founded  in  no  reasonable  distinction  of  merit  and  situation. 
Although  in  his  intercourse  with  his  family,  and  the  lesser  endear- 
ments of  domestic  life,  a  parent  may  not  always  resist  his  partiality 
to  a  favourite  child ;  (which,  however,  should  be  both  avoided  and 
<-on.cealed,  as  oftentimes  productive  of  lasting  jealousies  and  dis- 
contents ;)  yet,  when  he  sits  down  to  make  his  will,  this  tenderness 
must  give  place  to  more  manly  deliberations. 

A  father  of  a  family  is  bound  to  adjust  his  economy  with  a  view 
to  these  demands  upon  his  fortune  ;  and  until  a  sufficiency  for 
these  ends  is  acquired,  or  in  due  time  probably  will  be  acquired, 
(for,  in  human  affairs,  probability  is  enough,)  frugality  and  exer- 
tions of  industry  are  duties.  He  is  also  justified  in  declining1  ex» 


DUTY   OF    PARENTS,  li •> 

pensive  liberality ;  for,  to  take  from  those  who  want,  in  order  to 
give  to  those  who  want,  adds  nothing  to  the  stock  of  public  happi- 
ness. Thus  far,  therefore,  and  no  farther,  the  plea  of  "children," 
of  "large  families,"  "charity  begins  at  home,"  &c.  is  an  excuse 
for  parsimony,  and  an  answer  to  those  who  solicit  our  bounty. 
Beyond  this  point,  as  the  use  of  riches  becomes  less,  the  desire  oi 
faying  up  should  abate  proportionably.  The  truth  is,  our  children 
gain  not  so  much  as  we  imagine,  in  the  chance  of  this  world's  hap- 
piness, or  even  of  its  external  prosperity,  by  setting  out  in  it  with 
large  capitals.  Of  those  who  die  rich,  a  great  part  began  with 
little.  And,  in  respect  of  enjoyment,  there  is  no  comparison  be- 
tween a  fortune  which  a  man  acquires  himself  by  a  fruitful  indus- 
try, or  a  series  of  successes  in  his  business,  and  one  found  in  his 
possession,  or  received  from  another. 

A  principal  part  of  the  parent's  duty  is  still  behind,  viz.  the 
using  of  proper  precautions  and  expedients,  in  order  to  form  and 
preserve  his  children's  virtue. 

To  us,  who  believe  that,  in  one  stage  or  other  of  our  existence, 
virtue  will  conduct  to  happiness,  and  vice  terminate  in  misery : 
and  who  observe  withal  that  men's  virtues  and  vices  are,  to  a  cer- 
tain degree,  produced  or  affected  by  the  management  of  their 
youth,  and  the  situations  in  which  they  are  placed  ;  to  all  who  at- 
tend to  these  reasons,  the  obligation  to  consult  a  child's  virtue  will 
appear  to  differ  in  nothing  from  that  by  which  the  parent  is  bound 
to  provide  for  his  maintenance  or-  fortune.  The  child's  interest  is 
concerned  in  the  one  means  of  happiness  as  well  as  in  the  other  ; 
and  both  means  are  equally,  and  almost  exclusively,  in  the  pa- 
rent's power. 

The  first  point  to  be  endeavoured  after  is,  to  impress  upon  child- 
ren the  idea  of  accountableness,  that  is,  to  accustom  them  to  look 
forward  to  the  consequences  of  their  actions  in  another  world : 
which  can  only  be  brought  about  by  the  parents  visibly  acting 
with  a  view  to  these  consequences  themselves.  Parents,  to  do 
them  justice,  are  seldom  sparing  in  lessons  of  virtue  and  religion ; 
in  admonitions  which  cost  little,  and  profit  less ;  whilst  their  exam- 
ple exhibits  a  continual  contradiction  of  what  they  teach.  A  fa- 
ther, for  instance,  will,  with  much  solemnity  and  apparent  earnest- 
ness, warn  his  son  against  idleness,  excess  in  drinking,  debauchery, 
and  extravagance,  who  himself  loiters  about  all  day  without  em- 
ployment ;  comes  home  every  night  drunk ;  is  made  infamous  in  his 
neighbourhood  by  some  profligate  connexions;  and  wastes  the  for- 
tune which  should  support,  or  remain  a  provision  for  his  family,  in 
riot,  or  luxury,  or  ostentation.  Or,  he  will  discourse  gravely  be- 


176  DUTY  OF   PARENTS. 

fore  his  children  of  the  obligation  and  importance  of  revealed  relf 
gion,  whilst  they  see  the  most  frivolous,  and  oftentimes  feigned 
excuses,  detain  him  from  its  reasonable  and  solemn  ordinances. 
Or  he  will  set  before  them,  perhaps,  the  supreme  and  tremendous 
authority  of  Almighty  God ;  that  such  a  Being  ought  not  to  be 
named,  or  even  thought  upon,  without  sentiments  of  profound  awe 
and  veneration.  This  may  be  the  lecture  he  delivers  to  his  family 
one  hour ;  when  the  next,  if  an  occasion  arise  to  excite  his  anger, 
his  mirth,  or  his  surprise,  they  will  hear  him  treat  the  name  of  the 
Deity  with  the  most •  irreverent  profanation,  and  sport  with  the 
terms  and  denunciations  of  the  Christian  religion,  as  if  they  were 
the  language  of  some  ridiculous  and  long-exploded  superstition. 
Now,  even  a  child  is  not  to  be  imposed  upon  by  such  mockery. 
He  sees  through  the  grimace  of  this  counterfeited  concern  for  virtue. 
He  discovers  that  his  parent  is  acting  a  part ;  and  receives  his  ad- 
monitions as  he  would  hear  the  same  maxims  from  the  mouth  of  a 
player.  And  when  once  this  opinion  has  taken  possession  of  the 
child's  mind,  it  has  a  fatal  effect  upon  the  parent's  influence  in  all 
subjects ;  even  in  those,  in  which  he  himself  may  be  sincere  and 
convinced.  Whereas  a  silent,  but  observable  regard  to  the  duties 
of  religion,  in  the  parent's  own  behaviour,  will  take  a  sure  and 
gradual  hold  of  the  child's  disposition,  much  beyond  formal  re- 
proofs and  chidings,  which,  being  generally  prompted  by  some- 
present  provocation,  discover  more  of  anger  than  of  principle,  and 
are  always  received  with  a  temporary  alienation  and  disgust. 

A  good  parent's  first  care  is,  to  be  virtuous  himself;  his  second. 
r»  make  his  virtues  as  easy  and  engaging  t<>  "  -'e  about  him  as 
their  nature  will  admit.  Virtue  itself  offends  a  coupled  with 

forbidding  manners.  And  some  virtues  may  bu  >-a:ed  to  such  ex- 
?HfeB,  or  brought  forward  so  unseasonably,  as  to  discourage  and  re- 
pel those  who  observe  and  who  are  acted  upon  by  tt  -?m,  instead  of 
exciting  an  inclination  to  imitate  and  adopt  them.  •  Young  mind? 
are  particularly  liable  to  these  unfortunate  impressions.  For  in- 
stance, if  a  father's  economy  degenerate  into  a  minute  and  teasing 
parsimony,  it  is  odds  but  that  the  son,  who  has  suffered  under  it,  set 
out  a  sworn  enemy  to  all  rules  of  order  and  frugality.  If  a  father's 
piety  be  morose,  rigorous,  and  tinged  with  melancholy,  perpetually 
treaking  in  upon  the  recreations  of  his  family,  and  surfeiting  them 
with  the  language  of  religion  upon  all  occasions,  there  is  danger 
lest  the  son  carry  from  home  with  him  a  settled  prejudice  against 
seriousness  and  religion,  as  inconsistent  with  every  plan  of  a  plea- 
surable life;  and  turn  out,  when  he  mixes  with  the  world,  a  rhn~ 
racter  of  levity  or  dissoluteness. 


RIGHTS   OF   PARENTS.  177 

Someihing  likewise  may  be  done  towards  the  correcting  or  im- 
proving' of  those  early  inclinations  which  children  discover,  by 
disposing  them  into  situations  the  least  dangerous  to  their  particu- 
lar characters.  Thus,  I  would  make  choice  of  a  retired  life  for 
young  persons  addicted  to  licentious  pleasures  ;  of  private  stations 
for  the  proud  and  passionate ;  of  liberal  professions,  and  a  town  life, 
for  the  mercenary  and  sottish ;  and  not  according  to  the  general 
practice  of  parents,  send  dissolute  youths  into  the  army  ;  penurious 
tempers  to  trade ;  or  make  a  crafty  lad  an  attorney ;  or  flatter  a 
vain  and  haughty  temper  with  elevated  names,  or  situations,  or 
callings,  to  which  the  fashion  of  the  woi'ld  has  annexed  precedency 
and  distinction,  but  in  which  his  disposition,  without  at  all  promot- 
ing his  success,  will  serve  both  to  multiply  and  exasperate  his  dis- 
appointments. In  the  same  way,  that  is,  with  a  view  to  the  parti- 
cular frame  and  tendency  of  the  pupil's  character,  I  would  make 
choice  of  a  public  or  private  education.  The  reserved,  timid,  and 
indolent,  will  have  their  faculties  called  forth  and  their  nerves  invi- 
gorated by  a  public  education.  Youths  of  strong  spirits  and  pas- 
sions will  be  safer  in  a  private  education.  At  our  public  schools, 
as  far  as  I  have  observed,  more  literature  is  acquired,  and  mora 
vice ;  quick  parts  are  cultivated,  slow  ones  are  neglected.  Under 
private  tuition,  a  moderate  proficiency  in  juvenile  learning  is  sel 
rtom  exceeded,  but  oftener  attained. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE  RIGHTS  OF  PARENTS. 

THE  Rights  of  Parents  result  from  their  duties.  If  it  be  the  dut\ 
of  a  parent  to  educate  his  children,  to  form  them  for  a  life  of  use- 
fulness and  virtue,  to  provide  for  them  situations  needful  for  their 
subsistence  and  suited  to  their  circumstances,  and  to  prepare  them 
for  those  situations ;  he  has  a  right  to  such  authority,  and  in  sup- 
port of  that  authority  to  exercise  such  discipline,  as  may  be  neces- 
sary for  these  purposes.  The  law  of  nature  acknowledges  no  other 
foundation  of  a  parent's  right  over  his  children,  beside  liis  duty 
towards  them  ;  (I  speak  now  of  such  rights  as  may  be  enforced  bv 
coercion.)  This  relation  confers  no  property  in  their  persons,  or 
natural  dominion  over  them,  as  is  commonly  supposed. 

Since  it  is,  in  general,  necessary  to  determine  the  destination  of 
children,  before  they  are  capable  of  judging  of  their  own  happi- 
ness, parents  have  a  right  to  elect  professions  for  them. 
16 


1?8  DCTV    OF    CHILDREN. 

As  the  mother  herself  owes  obedience  to  the  father,  her  author 
ity  must  submit  to  his.     In  a  competition,  therefore,  of  commands, 
the  father  is  to  be  obeyed.     In  case  of  the  death  of  either,  the  au- 
thority, as  well  as  duty  of  both  parents,  devolves  upon  the  survivor. 

These  rights  always  following-  the  duty,  belong  likewise  to  guar- 
dians ;  and  so  much  of  them  as  is  delegated  by  the  parents  or  guar- 
dians belongs  to  tutors,  schoolmasters,  &c. 

From  this  principle,  "  that  the  rights  of  parents  result  from  their 
"  duty,"  it  follows,  that  parents  have  no  natural  right  over  the  lives 
of  their  children,  as  was  absurdly  allowed  to  Roman  fathers  ;  nor 
any  to  exercise  unprofitable  severities  ;  nor  to  command  the  com- 
mission of  crimes  :  for  these  rights  can  never  be  wanted  for  the 
purposes  of  a  parent's  duty. 

Nor,  for  the  same  reason,  have  parents  any  right  to  sell  their 
children  into  slavery.  Upon  which,  by  the  way,  we  may  observe, 
that  the  children  of  slaves  are  not,  by  the  law  of  nature,  born 
slaves  ;  for,  as  the  master's  right  is  derived  to  him  through  the 
parent,  it  can  never  be  greater  than  the  parent's  own. 

Hence  also  it  appears,  that  parents  not  only  pervert,  but  exceed, 
their  just  authority,  when  they  consult  their  own  ambition,  inte- 
rest, or  prejudice,  at  the  manifest  expense  of  their  children's  hap- 
piness. Of  which  abuse  of  parental  power,  the  following  are  in- 
stances :  the  shutting  up  of  daughters  and  younger  sons  in  nunne- 
ries and  monasteries,  in  order  to  preserve  entire  the  estate  and 
dignity  of  the  family  ;  or  the  using  of  any  arts,  either  of  kindness 
or  unkindness,  to  induce  them  to  make  choice  of  this  way  of  life 
themselves ;  or,  in  countries  where  the  clergy  are  prohibited 
from  marriage,  putting  sons  into  the  church  for  the  same  end,  who 
are  never  likely  either  to  do  or  receive  any  good  in  it  sufficient  to 
compensate  for  this  sacrifice  ;  the  urging  of  children  to  marria- 
ges from  which  they  are  averse,  with  the  view  of  exalting  or  en- 
riching the  family,  or  for  the  sake  of  connecting  estates,  parties,  or 
interests  ;  or  the  opposing  of  a  marriage,  in  which  the  child  would 
probably  find  his  happiness,  from  a  motive  of  pride  or  avarice,  of 
family  hostility,  or  pc'rsonal  pique. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  DUTY  OP  CHfLDREN. 

THE  Duty  of  Children  may  be  considered, 

I.  During  childhood. 

II.  After  they  have  attained  to  manhood,  but  continue  'in,  their 
lather's  family. 


DUTY    OF    CHILDREN.  179 

III.  After  they  have  attained  to  manhood,  and  have  left  their  fa- 
ther's family. 

I.  During'  Childhood. 

Children  must  be  supposed  to  have  ^attained  to  some  degree  ot 
discretion  before  they  are  capable  of  any  duty.  There  is  ail  inter- 
val of  eight  or  nine  years  between  the  dawning  and  the  maturity 
of  reason,  in  which  it  is  necessary  to  subject  the  inclination  oi 
children  to  many  restraints,  and  direct  their  application  to  many 
employments,  of  the  tendency  and  use  of  which  they  cannot  judge, 
for  which  cause,  the  submission  of  children  during  this  period 
must  be  ready  and  implicit,  with  an  exception,  however,  of  any 
manifest  crime  which  may  be  commanded  them. 

II.  After  they  have  attained  to  manhood,  but  continue  in  their 
father's  family. 

If  children,  when  they  are  grown  up,  voluntarily  continue  mem- 
bers of  their  father's  family,  they  are  bound,  beside  the  general 
duty  of  gratitude  to  their  parents,  to  observe  such  regulations  of 
the  family  as  the  father  shall  appoint;  contribute  their  labour  to 
its  support,  if  required  ;  and  confine  themselves  to  such  expenses 
as  he  shall  allow.  The  obligation  would  be  the  same  if  they  were 
admitted  into  any  other  family,  or  received  support  from  any  oth- 
er harfl. 

III.  After  they  have  attained  to   manhood,  and  have  left  their 
father's  family. 

In  this  state  of  the  relation,  the  duty  to  parents  is  simply  the 
duty  of  gratitude  ;  not  different  in  kind  from  that  which  we  owe  to 
any  other  benefactor;  in  degree,  just  so  much  exceeding  other  ob- 
ligations, by  how  much  a  parent  has  been  a  greater  benefactor 
than  any  other  friend.  The  services  and  attentions  by  which  filial 
gratitude  may  be  testified,  can  be  comprised  within  no  enumer- 
ation. It  will  show  itself  in  compliances  with  the  will  of  the  pa- 
rents, however  contrary  to  the  child's  own  taste  or  judgment,  pro- 
vided it  be  neither  criminal,  nor  totally  inconsistent  with  his  hap- 
piness ;  in  a  constant  endeavour  to  promote  their  enjoyments,  pre- 
vent their  wishes,  and  soften  their  anxieties,  in  small  matters  as 
well  as  in  great ;  in  assisting  them  in -their  business;  in  contribu- 
ting to  their  support,  ease,  or  better  accommodation,  when  their 
circumstances  require  it ;  in  affording  them  our  company,  in  pre- 
ference to  more  amusing  engagements  ;  in  waiting  upon  their  sick- 
ness or  decrepitude  ;  in  bearing  with  the  infirmities  of  their  health 
or  temper,  with  the  peevishness  and  complaints,  the  unfashionable, 
negligent,  austere  manners,  and  offensive  habits,  which  often 
attend  upon  advanced  years  ;  for,  where  must  old  age  find  indul- 


^80  CUTS'    OF    CHILDREN. 

gence,  if  it  do  not  meet  with  it  in  the  piety  and  partiality  of  children  : 
The  most  serious  contentions  between  parents  and  their  children 
are  those  commonly  which  relate  to  marriage,  or  to  the  choice  of  a 
profession. 

A  parent  has,  in  no  case,  a  right  to  destroy  his  child's  happiness 
If  it  be  true,  therefore,  that  there  exist  such  personal  and  exclusive 
attachments  between  individuals  of  different  sexes,  that  the  posses- 
sion of  a  particular  man  or  woman  in  marriage  be  really  necessa- 
ry to  the  child's  happiness;  or,  if  it  be  true,  that  an  aversion  to  a 
particular  profession  may  be  involuntary  and  unconquerable ;  then 
it  will  follow,  that  parents,  where  this  is  the  case,  ought  not  to 
urge  their  authority,  and  that  the  child  is  not  bound  to  obey  it. 

The  point  is,  to  discover  how  far,  in  any  particular  instance,  this 
is  the  case.  Whether  the  fondness  of  lovers  ever  continues  with 
.such  intensity,  and  so  long,  that  the  success  of  their  desires  con- 
stitutes, or  the  disappointment  affects,  any  considerable  portion  of 
their  happiness,  compared  with  that  of  their  whole  life,  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  determine  ;  but  there  can  be  no  difficulty  in  pronouncing, 
that  not  one  half  of  those  attachments,  which  young  people  con- 
ceive with  so  much  haste  and  passion,  are  of  this  sort.  I  believe 
it  also  to  be  true,  that  there  are  few  aversions  to  a  profession, 
which  resolution,  perseverance,  activity  in  going  about  th^duty  of 
it,  and,  above  all,  despair  of  changing,  will  not  subdue  ;  yet  there 
are  some  such.  Wherefore,  a  child  who  respects  his  parent's  judg- 
ment, and  is,  as  he  ought  to  be,  tender  of  his  happiness,  owes,  at 
least,  so  much  deference  to  his  will,  as  to  try  fairly  and  faithfully, 
in  one  case,  whether  time  and  absence  will  not  quench  his  affec- 
tion ;  and,  in  the  other,  whether  a  longer  continuance  in  his  pro- 
fession may  not  reconcile  him  to  itr  The  whole  depends  upon  the 
experiment  being  made  on  the  child's  part  with  sincerity,  and  not 
merely  with  a  design  of  compassing  his  purpose  at  last,  by  means 
of  a  simulated  and  temporary  compliance.  It  is  the  nature  of  love 
and  hatred,  and  of  all  violent  affections,  to  delude  the  mind  with  a 
persuation  that  we  shall  always  continue  to  feel  them,  as  we  feel 
them  at  present ;  we  cannot  conceive  that  they  will  either  change 
or  cease.  Experience  of  similar  or  greater  changes  in  ourselves. 
or  a  habit  of  giving  credit  to  what  our  parents,  or  tutors,  or  books 
teach  us,  may  control  this  persuasion,  otherwise  it  renders  youth 
very  untractable  ;  for  they  see  clearly  and  truly  that  it  is  impossi- 
ble they  should  be  happy  under  the  circumstances  proposed  to 
them,  in  their  present  state  of  mind.  After  a  sincere  but  ineffect- 
ual endeavour,  by  the  child,  to  accommodate  his  inclination  to  his 
parent's  pleasure,  he  ought  not  to  suffer  in  his  parent's  affection,  or 


DUTY    OF    CHILDREN.  181 

in  his  fortunes.  The  parent,  when  he  has  reasonable  proof  of  this, 
should  acquiesce  ;  at  all  events,  the  child  is  then  at  liberty  to  pro- 
vide for  his  own  happiness. 

Parents  have  no  right  to  urge  their  children  upon  marriages  to 
which  they  are  averse ;  nor  ought,  in  any  shape,  to  resent  the  chil- 
dren's disobedience  to  such  commands.  This  is  a  different  case 
from  opposing  a  match  of  inclination,  because  the  child's  misery  is 
a  much  more  probable  consequence  ;  it  being  easier  to  live  with- 
out a  person  that  we  love,  than  with  one  whom  we  hate.  Add  to 
this,  that  compulsion  in  marriage  necessarily  leads  to  prevarica- 
tion ;  as  the  reluctant  party  promises  an  affection,  which  neither 
exists,  nor  is  expected  to  take  place  ;  and  jjarental,  like  all  human 
authority,  ceases,  at  the  point  where  obedience  becomes  criminal. 
In  the  above-mentioned,  and  in  all  contests  between  parents  and 
children,  it  is  the  parent's  duty  to  represent  to  the  child  the  conse- 
quences of  his  conduct ;  and  it  will  be  found  his  best  policy  to  re- 
present them  with  fidelity.  It  is  usual  for  parents  to  exaggerate 
these  descriptions  beyond  probability,  and  by  exaggeration  to  lose 
all  credit  with  their  children ;  thus,  in  a  great  measure,  defeating 
their  own  end. 

Parents  are  forbidden  to  interfere  where  a  trust  is  reposed  per- 
sonally in  the  son,  and  where,  consequently  the  son  was  expected, 
and  by  virtue  of  that  expectation,  is  obliged  to  pursue  his  own 
judgment,  and  not  that  of  any  other ;  as  is  the  case  with  jndicial 
magistrates  in  the  execution,  of  their  office  ;  with  members  of  the 
legislature  in  their  votes ;  with  electors,  where  preference  is  to  be 
given  to  certain  prescribed  qualifications.  The  son  may  assist  his 
own  judgment  by  the  advice  of  his  father,  or  of  any  whom  he 
chooses  to  consult ;  but  his  own  judgment,  whether  it  proceed  upon 
knowledge  or  authority,  ought  finally  to  determine  his  conduct. 

The  duty  of  children  to  their  parents  was  thought  worthy  to  be 
made  the  subject  of  one  of  the  Ten  Commandments ;  and,  as  such, 
is  recognized  by  Christ,  together  with  the  rest  of  the  moral  precepts 
of  the  Decalogue,  in  various  places  of  the  Gospel. 

The  same  divine  Teacher's  sentiments  concerning   the  relief  of 
indigent  parents,  appear  sufficiently  from  that  manly  and  deserved 
indignation  with  which  he  reprehended  the  wretched  casuistry  of 
the  Jewish  expositors,  who,  under  the  name  of  a  tradition  had  con- 
trived a  method  of  evading  this  duty,  by  converting,  or  pretending 
to  convert,  to  the  treasury  of  the  temple,  so  much  of  their  property 
as  their  distressed  parent  might  be  entitled  by  their  law  to  demand 
Agreeably  to  this  law  of  Nature  and  Christianity,  children  are, 
by  the  law  of  England,  bound  to  support,  as  well  their  immediate 
16* 


"182  BTJTJT   OF    CHILDREN 

parents,  as  their  grandfather  and  grandmother,  or  remoter  ance? 
tors,  who  stand  in  need  of  support. 

Obedience  to  parents  is  enjoined  by  St.  Paul  to  the  Ephesians 
"  Children,  obey  your  parents  in  the  Lord,  for  this  is  right;"  and  to 
the  Colossians :  "  Children,  obey  your  parents  in  all  things,  foi 
"  this  is  well  pleasing  unto  the  Lord."* 

By  the  Jewish  law,  disobedience  to  parents  was  in  some  extreme 
cases  capital ;  Deut.  xxi.  18. 

*  Upon  which  two  phrases,  "  this  is  right,"  and  "  for  this  is  well  pleasing  unu 
l!  the  Lord,"  being  used  by  St.  Paul  in  a  sense  perfectly  parallel,  we  may  observe, 
that  mowil  rectitude,  and  conformity  to  the  Divine  win,  were;  in  his  arprchm 
sion.  the  same.  •  • 


BOOK  IV. 


PART  I. 

DUTIES  TO  OURSELVES. 

THIS  division  of  the  subject  is  merely  for  the  sake  of  method,  bj 
which  the  writer  and  the  reader  are  equally  assisted.  To  the  sub 
iect  itself  it  imports  nothing;  for,  the  obligation  of  all  duties  be- 
ing fundamentally  the  same,  it  matters  little  under  what  class  01 
title  any  of  them  are  considered.  In  strictness,  there  are  few  du- 
ties or  crimes  which  terminate  in  a  man's  self;  and  so  far  as  others 
are  affected  by  their  operation,  they  have  been  treated  of  in  some 
article  of  the  preceding  book.  We  have  reserved  to  this  head  the 
rights  of  self-defence ;  also  the  consideration  of  drunkenness  and 
suicide,  as  offences  against  that,  care  of  our  faculties,  and  preser- 
vation of  our  persons,  which  we  account  duties,  and  call  duties  t< 
ourselves. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  RIGHTS  OF  SELF-DEFENCE. 

IT  has  been  asserted,  that  in  a  state  of  nature  we  might  lawfully 
defend  the  most  insignificant  right,  provided  it  were  a  perfect 
determinate  right,  by  -any  extremities  which  the  obstinacy  of  the 
aggressor  made  necessary.  Of  this  I  doubt ;  because  I  doubt  whe- 
ther the  general  rule  be  worth  sustaining  at  such  an  expense ;  and 
because,  apart  from  the  general  consequence  of  yielding  to  the  at- 
tempt, it  cannot  be  contended  to  be  for  the  augmentation  of  human 
happiness,  that  one  man  should  lose  his  life,  or  a  limb,  rather  than 
another  a  penny  worth  of  his  property.  Nevertheless,  perfect  rights 
can  only  be  distinguished  bv  thei>-  value ;  and  it  is  impossible  to 
nscertaia  the  value  at  which  the  liberty  of  using  extreme  violence 


184  RIGHTS   OF   SELF-DEFENCE. 

begins.     The  person  attacked  must  balance,  as  well  as  he  can,  be 
tween  the  general  consequence  of  yielding,  and  the  particular  ef- 
fect of  resistance. 

However,  this  right,  if  it  exist  in  a  state  of  nature,  is  suspended 
by  the  establishment  of  civil  society ;  because  thereby  other  reme- 
dies are  provided  against  attacks  upon  our  property,  and  because 
it  is  necessary  to  the  peace  and  safety  of  the  community,  that  the 
prevention,  punishment,  and  redress  of  injuries,  be  adjusted  by  pub- 
lic laws.  Moreover,  as  the  individual  is  assisted  in  the  recovery  of 
his  right,  or  of  a  compensation  for  it,  by  the  public  strength,  it  is 
no  less  equitable  than  expedient,  that  he  should  submit  to  public 
arbitration  the  manner,  as  well  as  the  measure,  of  the  satisfaction 
which  he  is  to  obtain. 

There  is  one  case  in  which  all  extremities  are  justifiable  ;  name- 
ly, when  our  life  is  assaulted,  and  it  becomes  necessary  for  our  pre- 
servation to  kill  the  assailant.  This  is  evident  in  a  state  of  nature ; 
unless  it  can  be  shown,  that  we  are  bound  to  prefer  the  aggressor's 
life  to  our  own,  that  is  to  say,  to  love  our  enemy  better  than  our- 
selves, which  can  never  be  a  debt  of  justice,  nor  any  where  ap- 
pears to  be  a  duty  of  charity.  Nor  is  the  case  altered  by  our  living 
in  civil  society  ;  because,  by  the  supposition,  the  laws  of  society 
, cannot  interpose  to  protect  us,  nor,  by  the  nature  of  the  case,  com- 
pel restitution.  This  liberty  is  restrained  to  cases  in  which  no  oth- 
er probable  means  of  preserving  our  life  remain,  as  flight,  calling 
for  assistance,  disarming  the  adversary,  &c.  The  rule  holds,  whe- 
ther the  danger  proceed  from  a  voluntary  attack,  as  by  an  enemy, 
robber,  or  assassin  ;  or  from  an  involuntary  one,  as  by  a  madman,  or 
person  sinking  in  the  water,  and  dragging  us  after  him  ;  or  where 
two  persons  are  reduced  to  a  situation  in  which  one  or  both  of  them 
must  perish  ;  as  in  a  shipwreck,  where  two  seize  upon  a  plank, 
which  will  support  only  one ;  although  to  say  the  truth,  these  ex- 
treme cases,  which  happen  seldom,  and  hardly,  when  they  do  hap- 
pen, admit  of  moral  agency,  are  scarcely  worth  mentioning,  much 
less  debating. 

The  instance  which  approaches  the  nearest  to  the  preservation  of 
life  and  which  seems  to  justify  the  same  extremities,  is  the  defence 
of  chastity. 

In  all  other  cases,  it  appears  to  me  the  safest  to  consider  the  ta- 
king away  of  life  as  authorized  by  the  law  of  the  land ;  and  the 
person  who  takes  it  away,  as  in  the  situation  of  a  minister  or  exe- 
cutioner of  the  law. 

In  which  view,  homicide,  in  England,  is  justifiable : 

1 .  To  prevent  the  commission  of  a  crime,  which,  when  committed . 


DRUNKENNESS,  l£» 

would  be  punishable  with  death.  Thus,  it  is  lawful  to  shoot  a  high- 
wayman, or  one  attempting1  to  break  into  a  house  by  night ;  but 
not  by  day  :  which  particular  distinction,  by  a  consent  that  is  re- 
markable, obtained  also  in  the  Jewish  law,  as  well  as  in  the  laws 
both  of  Greece  and  Rome. 

2.  In  necessary  endeavours  to  carry  the  law  into  execution,  as 
iu  suppressing1  riots  apprehending  malefactors,  preventing  es- 
capes, &c. 

1  do  not  know  that  the  law  holds  forth  its  authority  to  any  cases 
besides  those  which  fall  within  one  or  other  of  the  above  descrip- 
tions ;  or  that,  after  the  exception  of  immediate  danger  to  life  or 
chastity,  the  destruction  of  a  human  being  can  be  innocent  with 
out  that  authority. 

The  rights  of  war  are  not  here  taken  into  the  account. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

DRUNKENNESS. 

DRUNKENNESS  is  either  actual  or  habitual :  just  as  it  is  one  thing 
10  be  drunk,  and  another  to  be  a  drunkard.  What  we  shall  deli- 
ver upon  the  subject  must  principally  be  understood  of  a  habit  of 
intemperance  ;  although  part  of  the  guilt  and  danger  described 
may  be  applicable  to  casual  excesses  ;  and  all  of  it,  in  a  certain  de- 
gree, forasmuch  as  every  habit  is  only  a  repetition  of  single  in- 
stances. 

The  mischief  of  drunkenness,  from  which  we  are  to  compute  the 
guilt  of  it,  consists  in  the  following  bad  effects :  — 

1.  It  betrays  most  constitutions  either  into  extravagancies  of  an- 
ger, or  sins  of  lewdness. 

2.  It  disqualifies  men  for  the  duties  of  their  station,  both  by  the 
temporary  disorder  of  their  faculties,  and  at  length  by  a  constant, 
incapacity  and  stupefaction. 

3.  It  is  attended  with  expenses,  which  can  often  be  ill  spared. 

,    4.  It  is  sure  to  occasion  uneasiness  to  the  family  of  the  drunkard. 

5.  It  shortens  life. 

To  these  consequences  of  drunkenness  must  be  added,  the  pecu- 
liar danger  and  mischief  of  the  example.  Drunkenness  is  a  social, 
festive  vice;  apt  beyond  any  vice  I  can  mention,  to  draw  in  others 
by  the  example.  The  drinker  collects  his  circle  ;  the  circle  natu- 
rally spreads ;  of  those  who  are  drawn  within  it,  many  become  the 
eorrupters  and  centres  of  sets  and  circles  of  their  own  ;  every  one 


186  DRUNKENNESS. 

Countenancing,  and  perhaps  emulating  the  rest,  till  a  whole  neigh- 
bourhood be  infected  from  the  contagion  of  a  single  example.  This 
account  is  confirmed  by  what  we  often  observe  of  drunkenness, 
that  it  is  a  local  vice,  found  to  prevail  in  certain  countries,  iu 
certain  districts  of  a  country,  or  in  particular  towns,  without  an> 
reason  to  be  given  for  the  fashion,  but  that  it  had  been  introduced 
by  some  popular  examples.  With  this  observation  upon  the 
spreading  quality  of  drunkenness,  let  us  connect  a  remark  which 
belongs  to  the  several  evil  effects  above  recited.  The  consequen- 
ces of  a  vice,  like  the  symptoms  of  a  disease,  though  they  be  all 
enumerated  in  the  description,  seldom  all  meet  in  the  same  subject. 
In  the  instance  under  consideration,  the  age  and  temperature  of 
•one  drunkard  may  have  little  to  fear  from  inflammations  of  lust  or 
anger  ;  the  fortune  of  a  second  may  not  be  injured  by  the  expense ; 
a  third  may  have  no  family  to  be  disquieted  by  his  irregularities ; 
and  a  fourth  may  possess  a  constitution  fortified  against  the  poison 
of  strong  liquors.  But  if,  as  we  always  ought  to  do,  we  comprehend 
within  the  consequences  of  our  conduct  the  mischief  and  tendency 
of  the  example,  the  above  circumstances,  however  fortfinate  for 
the  individual,  will  be  found  to  vary  the  guilt  of  his  intemper- 
ance less,  probably,  than  he  supposes.  Although  the  waste  of  time 
and  money  may  be  of  small  importance  to  you,  it  may  be  of  the 
utmost  to  some  one  or  other  whom  your  society  corrupts.  Repeat- 
ed or  long  continued  excesses,  which  hurt  not  your  health,  may  be 
fatal  to  your  companion.  Although  you  have  neither  wife,  nor  child, 
nor  parent,  to  lament  your  absence  from  home,  or  expect  your  re- 
turn to  it  with  terror,  other  families,  whose  husbands  and  fathers 
have  been  invited  to  share  in  your  ebriety,  or  encouraged  to  imitate 
it,  may  justly  lay  their  misery  or  ruin  at  your  door.  This  will  hold 
good,  whether  the  person  seduced  be  seduced  immediately  by  you. 
or  the  vice  be  propagated  from  you  to  him  through  several  inter- 
mediate examples.  A  moralist  must  assemble  all  these  considera- 
tions, to  judge  truly  of  a  vice,  which  usually  meets  with  milder 
names  and  more  indulgence  than  it  deserves. 

I  omit  those  outrages  upon  one  another,  and  upon  the  peace 
and  safety  of  the  «eighbourhood,  in  which  drunken  revels  often  end  ; 
and  also  those  deleterious  and  maniacal  effects  which  strong  liquors 
produce  upon  particular  constitutions  ;  because,  in  general  propo- 
sitions concerning  drunkenness,  no  consequences  should  be  inclu- 
ded, but  what  are  constant  enough  to  be  generally  expected. 

Drunkenness  is  repeatedly  forbidden  by  St.  Paul:  "Be  not 
"  drunk  with  wine,  wherein  is  excess."  "  Let  us  walk  honestly  as 
-:  in  the  day,  not  in  rioting  and  drunkenness,"  "  Be  not  deceived  ; 


DRUNKENNESS.  187 

•  neither  fornicators,  nor  drunkards,  nor  revilers,  nor  extortioners. 
•:  shall  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God."  Eph.  v.  18;  Rom.  xiii.  13: 
1  Cor.  vi.  9,  10.  The  same  apostle  likewise  condemns  drunken- 
ness, as  peculiarly  inconsistent  with  the  Christian  profession:  — 
"  They  thai  be  drunken,  are  drunken  in  the  night:  but  let  us  who 
"  are  of  the  day,  be  sober,"  1  Thess.  v.  7,  8.  We  are  not  con- 
cerned with  the  argument ;  the  words  amount  to  a  prohibition  ol 
drunkenness  ;  and  the  authority  is  conclusive. 

It  is  a  question  of  some  importance,  how  far  drunkenness  is  an 
excuse  for  the  crimes  which  the  drunken  person  commits. 

In  the  solution  of  this  question,  we  will  first  suppose  the  drun- 
ken person  to  be  altogether  deprived  of  moral  agency,  that  is  to 
say  of  all  reflection  and  foresight.  In  this  condition,  it  is  evident, 
that  he  is  no  more  capable  of  guilt  than  a  madman  ;  although,  like 
him  he  may  be  extremely  mischievous.  The  only  guilt  with  which 
he  is  chargeable,  was  incurred  at  the  time  when  he  voluntarily 
brought  himself  into  this  situation.  And  as  every  man  is  responsi- 
ble for  the  consequences  which  he  foresaw,  or  might  have  foreseen, 
and  for  no  other,  this  guilt  will  be  in  proportion  to  the  probability  of 
such  consequences  ensuing.  From  which  principle  results  the  fol- 
lowing rule,  vi#.  tnat  the  guilt  of  any  action  in  a  drunken  man 
bears  the  same  proportion  to  the  guilt  of  the  like  action  in  a  sober 
man,  that  the  probability  of  its  being  the  consequence  of  drunken- 
ness bears  to  absolute  certainty.  By  virtue  of  this  rule,  those  vi- 
ces which  are  the  known  effects  of  drunkenness,  either  in  general, 
or  upon  particular  constitutions,  are  in  all,  or  in  men  of  such  con- 
stitutions, nearly  as  criminal  as  if  committed  with  all  their  faculties 
and  senses  about  them. 

If  the  privation  of  reason  be  only  partial,  the  guilt  will  be  of  a 
mixed  nature.  For  so  much  of  his  self-government  as  the  drunk- 
ard retains,  he  is  as  responsible  then  as  at  any  other  time.  He  is 
entitled  to  no  abatement  beyond  the  strict  proportion  in  which  his 
moral  faculties  are  impaired.  Now  I  call  the  guilt  of  the  crime,  if 
a  sober  man  had  committed  it,  the  whole  guilt.  A  person  in  the 
condition  we  describe,  incurs  part  of  this  at  the  instant  of  perpe- 
tration ;  and  by  bringing  himself  into  this  condition,  he  incurred 
such  a  fraction  of  the  remaining  part,  as  the  danger  of  this  conse- 
quence was  of  an  integral  certainty.  For  the  sake  of  illustration, 
we  are  at  liberty  to  suppose,  that  a  man  loses  his  moral  faculties 
by  drunkenness :  this  leaving  him  but  half  his  responsibility,  he  in- 
curs, when  he  commits  the  action,  half  of  the  whole  guilt.  We  will 
also  suppose,  that  it  was  known  beforehand  that  it  was  an  even 
chance,  or  half  a  certainty,  that  this  crime  would  follow  his  getting- 


18  DRUNKENNESS. 

drunk.  This  makes  him  chargeable  with  half  the  remainder;  s,o 
that,  altogether,  he  is  responsible  in  three-fourths  of  the  guilt  which 
u  sober  man  would  have  incurred  by  the  same  action.  I  do  not  mean 
that  any  real  case  can  be  reduced  to  numbers,  or  the  calculation 
made  with  arithmetical  precision  ;  but  these  are  the  principles,  and 
this  the  rule,  by  which  our  general  admeasurement  of  the  guilt  ot 
such  offences  should  be  regulated. 

The  appetite  for  intoxicating  liquors  appears  to  me  to  be  almost 
•always  acquired.     One  proof  of  which  is,  that  it  is  apt  to  return 
only  at  particular  times  and  places ;  as  after  dinner,  in  the  evening, 
on  the  market-day,  at  the  market-town,  in  such  a  company,  at 
such  a  tavern.     And  this  may  be  the  reason  that,  if  a  habit  of 
drunkenness   be  ever  overcome,  it  is  upon  some  change  of  place, 
situation,  company,  or  profession.     A 'man  sunk  deep  in  a  habit  of 
drunkenness  will,  upon  such  occasions  as  these,  when  he  finds 
himself  loosened  from  the  associations  which  held  him  fast,  some- 
times make  a  plunge  and  get  out.     In  a  matter  of  such  great  impor- 
tance it  is  well  worth  while,  where  it  is  tolerablj  convenient,  to 
change  our  habitation  and  society,  for  the  sake  of  the  experiment. 
Habits  of  drunkenness,  commonly  take  their  rise  either  from  a 
fondness  for,  and  connexion  with,  some  company,  or  some  com- 
panion, already  addicted  to  this  practice ;  which  affords  an  almost 
irresistible  invitation  to   take  a  share  in  the  indulgencics  which 
those  about  us  are  enjoying  with  so  much  apparent  relish  and  de- 
light :  or  from  want  of  regular  employment,  which  is  sure  to  let  in 
many  superfluous  cravings,  and  customs,  and  often  this  amongst  the 
rest ;  or,  lastly,  from   grief,  or  fatigue,  both  which  strongly  solicit 
that  relief  which  inebriating  liquors  administer  for  the  present,  and 
furnish  a  specious  excuse  for  complying  with  the  inclination.     But 
the  habit,  when  once  set  in,  is  continued  by  different  motives  from 
those  to  which  it  owes  its  origin.     Persons  addicted  to  excessive- 
drinking,  suffer,  in  the  intervals  of  sobriety,  and  near  the  return  of 
their  accustomed  indulgence,  a  faintness  and  oppression  circa  prcK- 
cordia,  which  it  excce3s  the  ordinary  patience  of  human  nature  to 
endure.     This  is  usually  relieved  for  a  short  time  by  a  repetition  of 
i  he  same  excess  ;  and  to  this  relief,  as  to  the  removal  of  every  long- 
continued  pain,  they  who  have  once  experienced  it,  are  urged  al- 
most beyond  the  power  of  resistance.     This  is  not  all :  as  the  liquor 
loses  its  stimulus,  the  dose  must  be  increased,  to  reach  the  same  pitch 
of  elevation,  or  ease ;  which  increase  proportionably  accelerates 
the  progress  of  all  the  maladies  that  drunkenness  brings  on.     Who- 
ever reflects  upon  the  violence  of  the  craving  in  the  advanced  sta- 
ges of  the  habit,  and  the  fatal  termination  to  which  the  gratification 


of  it  leads,  will,  the  moment  he  perceives  the  least  tendency  in 
himself  of  a  growing  inclination  to  intemperance,  collect  his  reso- 
lution to  this  point ;  (or  what  perhaps  he  will  find  hib  best  security) 
arm  himself  with  some  peremptory  rule,  as  to  the  times  and  quanti- 
ty of  his  indulgences.  I  own  myself  a  friend  to  the  laying  down 
of  rules  to  ourselves  of  this  sort,  and  rigidly  abiding  by  them.  They 
may  be  exclaimed  against  as  stiff,  but  they  are  olten  salutary.  In- 
•  lelinite  resolutions  of  abstemiousness  arc  apt  to  yield  to  extraordi- 
na.ry  occasions ;  and  extraordinary  occasions  to  occur  perpetually. 
Whereas,  the  stricter  the  rule  is,  the  more  tenacious  we  grow  of  it: 
•and  many  a  man  wiji  abstain  rather  than  break  his  rule,  who  would 
not  easily  be  brought  to  exercise  the  same  mortification  from  high- 
er motives.  IN  otto  mention,  that  when  our  rule  is  once  known. 
we  are  provided  with  an  answer  to  every  importunity. 

There  is  a  difference,  uo  doubt,  between  convivial  intemperance, 
and  that  solitary  sotlishness  which  waits  neither  for  company  nor 
invitation.  But  the  one,  I  am  afraid,  commonly  ends  in  the  other: 
and  this  last  is  the  basest  degradation  to  which  the  faculties  and 
dignity  of  human  nature  can  be  reduced. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

SUICIDE. 

THERE  is  no  subject  in  morality  in  which  the  considerations  of 
general  consequences  io  more  necessary  than  in  ti>is  of  suicide.  Par- 
ticular and  extreme  cases  01  suicide  may  be  feigned  and  may  hap- 
pen, of  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  assign  the  particular  harm,  or 
demonstrate  from  that  consideration  alone  the  guilt;  and  these  ca- 
ses have  chiefly  occasioned  confusion  and  doubtfulness  in  the  ques- 
tion; albeit  this  is  uo  more  than  what  is  sometimes  true  of  the  most 
acknowledged  v  ices.  I  could  propose  many  possible  cases  even^of 
murder,  which,  if  they  were  detached  from  the  general  rule,  and 
governed  by  their  own  particular  consequences  alone,  it  would  be 
no  easy  undertaking  to  prove  criminal. 

The  true  question  in  the  argument  is  no  other  than  this : — May 
every  jnan  who  pleases  to  destroy  his  life,  innocently  do  so?  Twist, 
limit,  and  distinguish  the  subject  as  you  can,  it  will  come  at  last  to 
this  question. 

For,  shall  we  say,  that  we  are  then  only  at  liberty  to  commit  sui- 
cide, when  we  find  our  continuance  in  life  become  useless  to  man- 
iind  ?  Any  one  who  pleases  may  make  himself  useless  ;  and  nielan- 
17 


190  SUICIDE. 

choly  minds  arc  prone  to  think  themselves  useless,  when  they  real 
ly  are  not  so.  Suppose  a  law  were  promulgated,  allowing  each  pri- 
vate person  to  destroy  every  man  he  met,  whose  longer  continu- 
ance in  the  world  he  judged  to  be  useless  ;  who  would  not  condemn 
the  latitude  of  such  a  rule  ?  who  does  not  perceive  that  it  amounts 
to  a  permission  to  commit  murder  at  pleasure  ?  A  similar  rule,  regu- 
lating the  right  over  our  own  lives,  would  be  capable  of  the  same 
extension.  Beside  which,  no  one  is  uselete  for  the  purpose  of  this 
plea,  but  he  who  has  lost  every  capacity  and  opportunity  of  being 
useful,  together  with  the  possibility  of  recovering  any  degree  of 
either;  which  is  a  state  of  such  complete  destitution  and  despair, 
as  cannot,  I  believe,  be  predicated  of  any  man  living. 

Or  rather,  shall  we  say  that  to  depart  voluntarily  out  of  life,  is 
lawful  for  those  alone  who  leave  none  to  lament  their  death  ?  If 
this  consideration  is  to  be  taken  into  the  account  at  all,  the  subject 
of  debate  will  be,  not  whether  there  are  any  to  sorrow  for  us,  bul 
whether  their  sorrow  for  our  death  will  exceed  that  which  we  should 
suffer  by  continuing  to  live.  Now,  this  is  a  comparison  of  things 
so  indeterminate  in  their  nature,  capable  of  so  different  a  judgment, 
and  concerning  which  the  judgment  will  differ  so  much,  according 
to  the  state  of  the  spirits,  or  the  pressure  of  any  present  anxiety, 
that  it  would  vary  little,  in  hypochondriacal  constitutions,  from  an 
unqualified  license  to  commit  suicide,  whenever  the  distresses  men 
felt,  or  fancied,  rose  high  enough  to  overcome  the  pain  and  dread  oi 
death.  Men  are  never  tempted  to  destroy  themselves  but  when 
under  the  oppression  of  some  grievous  uneasiness ;  the  restrictions 
of  the  rule,  therefore,  ought  to  apply  to  these  cases.  But  what  ef- 
fect can  we  look  for,  from  a  rule  which  proposes  to  weigh  our  own 
pain  against  another;  the  misery  that  is  felt,  against  that  which  is 
only  conceived ;  and  in  so  corrupt  a  balance  as  the  party's  own  dis- 
tempered imagination  ? 

In  like  manner,  whatever  other  rule  you  assign,  it  will  ultimate- 
ly bring  us  to  an  indiscriminate  toleration  of  suicide,  in  all  cases 
in  which  there  is  clanger  of  its  being  committed.  It  remains,  there- 
fore, to  inquire  what  would  be  the  effect  of  such  a  toleration?  evi- 
dently, the  loss  of  many  lives  to  the  community,  of  which  some 
might  be  useful  or  important;  the  affliction  of  many  families,  and 
the  consternation  of  all ;  for  mankind  must  live  in  continual  alarm 
for  the  fate  of  their  friends  and  dearest  relations,  when  the  restraints 
of  religion  and  morality  are  withdrawn  ;  when  every  disgust  which 
is  powerful  enough  to  tempt  men  to  suicide,  shall  be  deemed  suf- 
ficient to  justify  it;  and  when  the  follies  and  vices,  as  well  as  the 


SUICIDE.  191 

inevitable  calamities,  of  human  life,  so  often  make  existence  a  bur- 
then. 

A  second  consideration,  and  perfectly  distinct  from  the  formev; 
is  this: — By-continuing  iu  the  world,  and  in  the  exercises  of  those 
virtues  which  remain  within  our  power,  we  retain  the  opportunity 
of  meliorating  our  condition  in  a  future  state.  This  argument,  it 
is  true,  does  not  in  strictness  prove  suicide  to  be  a  crime ;  but  if  it 
supply  a  motive  to  dissuade  us  from  committing  it,  it  amounts  to 
much  the  same  thing.  Now,  there  is  no  condition  in  human  life 
which  is  not  capable  of  some  virtue,  active  or  passive.  Even  piety 
and  resignation  under  the  sufferings  to  which  we  are  called,  testify 
a  trust  and  acquiescence  in  the  Divine  counsels,  more  acceptable, 
perhaps,  than  the  most  prostrate  devotion ;  afford  an  edifying  ex- 
ample to  all  who  observe  them;  and  may  hope  for  a  recompense 
among  the  most  arduous  of  human  virtues.  These  qualities  are 
always  in  the  power  of  the  miserable ;  indeed  of  none  but  the 
miserable. 

The  two  considerations  above  stated,  belong  to  all  cases  of  sui- 
cide whatever.  Besides  which  general  reasons,  each  case  will  be 
aggravated  by  its  own  proper  and  particular  consequences ;  by  the 
duties  that  are  deserted ;  by  the  claims  that  are  defrauded ;  by  the 
loss,  affliction,  or  disgrace,  which  our  death,  or  the  manner  of  it, 
causes  to  our  family,  kindred,  or  friends ;  by  the  occasion  we  give 
to  many  to  suspect  the  sincerity  of  our  moral  and  religious  profes- 
sions, and,  together  with  ours,  those  of  all  others  ;  by  the  reproach 
we  draw  upon  our  order,  calling,  or  sect ;  in  a  word,  by  a  great 
variety  of  evil  consequences  attending  upon  peculiar  situations, 
with  some  or  other  of  which  every  actual  case  of  suicide  is  char- 
geable. 

I  refrain  from  the  common  topics  of  "deserting  our  post,"  "  throw- 
ing up  our  trust,"  "rushing  uncalled  into  the  presence  of  our 
-'  Maker,"with  some  others  of  the  same  sort,  not  because  they  are 
common,  (for  that  rather  affords  a  presumption  in  their  favour,)  but 
because  I  do  not  perceive  in  them  much  argument  to  which  an  an- 
swer may  not  easily  be  given. 

Hitherto  we  have  pursued  upon  the  subject  the  light  of  nature 
alone;  taking  into  the  account,  however,  the  expectation  of  a  fu- 
ture existence,  without  which  our  reasoning  upon  this,  as  indeed  all 
reasoning  upon  moral  questions,  is  vain.  We  proceed  to  inquire, 
whether  any  thing  is  to  be  met  with  in  Scripture,  which  may  add 
to  the  probability  of  the  conclusions  we  have  been  endeavouring 
ro  support  ?  And  here  I  acknowledge,  that  there  is  to  be  found  nei- 
ther any  express  determination  of  the  question,  nor  sufficient  evi- 


deuce  to  prove,  that  the  case  of  suicide  was  in  the  contemplation  01 
the  law,  which  prohibited  murder.  Any  inference,  therefore,  which 
we  deduce  from  Scripture,  can  be  sustained  only  by  construction 
•and  implication;  that  is  to  say,  although  they  who  w^pe  authorize;! 
to  instruct  mankind,  have  not  decided  a  question  which  never,  si 
far  as  appears  to  us,  came  before  them ;  yet,  I  think,  they  have  lefi 
enough  to  constitute  a  presumption  how  they  would  have  decided 
it,  had  it  been  proposed  or  thought  of. 

What  occurs  to  this  purpose,  is  contained  in  the  following  obser- 
vations : 

1 .  Human  life  is  spoken  of  as  a  term  assigned  or  prescribed  to  us  : 
"  Let  us  run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set  before  us."  "  I  have 
"  finished  my  course."  "  That  I  may  finish  my  course  with  joy.' 
*'  Ye  have  need  of  patience,  that,  after  yc  have  done  the  will  01 
"  God,  ye  might  receive  the  promises.'' — These  expressions  appear  to 
me  inconsistent  with  the  opinion,  that  we  are  at  liberty  to  deter- 
mine the  duration  of  our  lives  for  ourselves.  If  this  were  the  case, 
with  what  propriety  could  life  be  called  a  race  that  is  set  before  us  : 
or,  which  is  the  same  thing  "our  course;"  that  is,  the  course  scl 
out  or  appointed  to  us  ?  The  remaining  quotation  is  equally  strong. 
*'  That,  after  ye  have  done  the  will  of  God,  ye  might  receive  the 
'•  promises."  The  most  natural  meaning  that  can  be  given  to  the 
words,  "after  ye  have  done  the  will  of  God,"  is,  after  ye  have  dis- 
charged the  duties  of  life  so  long  as  God  is  pleased  to  continue  you 
in  it.  According  to  this  interpretation,  the  text  militates  stronglj 
against  suicide;  and  they  who  reject  this  paraphrase,  will  please  to 
propose  a  better. 

2.  There  is  not  one  quality  which  Christ  and  his  Apostles  incul- 
cate upon  their  followers  so  often,  or  so  earnestly,  as  that  of  patienct 
under  affliction.  Now  this  virtue  would  have  been  in  a  great  mea- 
sure superseded,  and  the  exhortations  to  it  might  have  been  spared, 
if  the  disciples  of  his  religion  had  been  at  liberty  to  quit  the  world 
"as  soon  .as  they  grew  weary  of  the  ill  usage  which  they  received  in 
it.  When  the  evils  of  life  pressed  sore,  they  were  to  look  forward 
to  a  "  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory ;"  they  were 
to  receive  "them  as  the  chastening  of  the  Lord,"  as  intimations  ot 
his  care  and  love  :  by  these  and  the  like  reflections  they  were  to 
support  and  improve  themselves  under  their  sufferings,  but  not  a 
hint  has  any  where  escaped  of  seeking  relief  in  a  voluntary  death. 
The  following  text,  in  particular,  strongly  combats  all  impatience 
of  distress,  of  which  the  greatest  is  that  which  pro  apts  to  acts  oi 
suicide  :  "  Consider  him  that  endured  sucli  contradiction  of  sinner* 
•'  against  himself,  lest  ye  be  wearied  and  faint  in  your  mind=."  \ 


would  offer  mv  comment  upon  this  passage  in  these  two  queries ; 
first,  Whether  a  Christian  convert,  who  had  been  impelled  by  the 
•continuance  and  urgency  of  his  suffering's  to  destroy  his  own  life, 
would  not  have  been  thought,  by  the  author  of  this  text,  "  to  have 
;' been  weary,"  "to  have  fainted  in  his  mind,"  to  have  fallen  off 
from  that  example  which  is  here  proposed  to  the  meditation  of 
Christians  in  distress  ?  And  yet,  secondly,  Whether  such  an  act 
would  not  have  been  attended  with  all  the  circumstances  of  miti- 
gation which  can  excuse  or  extenuate  suicide  at  this  day  ? 

3.  The  conduct  of  the  Apostles,  and  of  the  Christians  of  the 
apostolic  age,  affords  no  obscure  indication  of  their  sentiments  up- 
on this  point.  They  lived,  we  are  sure,  in  a  confirmed  persuasion 
of  the  existence,  as  well  as  of  the  happiness  of  a  future  state. 
They  experienced  in  this  world  every  extremity  of  external  injury 
and  distress.  To  die,  was  gain.  The  change  which  death  brought 
with  it  was,  in  their  expectation,  infinitely  beneficial.  Yet  it  ne- 
ver, that  we  can  find,  entered  into  the  intention  of  one  of  them  to 
hasten  this  change  by  an  act  of  suicide ;  from  which  it  is  difficult  to 
say  what  motive  could  have  so  universally  withheld  them,  except 
an  apprehension  of  some  unlawfulness  in  the  expedient. 

Having  stated  what  we  have  been  able  to  collect  in  opposition 
to  the  lawfulness  of  suicide,  by  way  of  direct  proof,  it  seems  unne- 
cessary to  open  a  separate  controversy  with  all  the  arguments 
which  are  made  use  of  to  defend  it;  which  would  only  lead  us  into 
i  repetition  of  what  has  been  offered  already.  The  following  ar- 
gument, however,  being  somewhat  more  artificial  and  imposing1 
than  the  rest,  as  well  as  distinct  from  the  general  consideration  of  the 
subject,  cannot  so  properly  be  passed  over.  If  we  deny  to  the  in- 
•lividual  a  right  over  his  own  life,  it  seems  impossible,  it  is  said,  to 
reconcile  with  the  law  of  nature  that  right  which  the  state  claims 
and  exercises  over  the  lives  of  its  subjects,  when  it  ordains  or  in- 
flicts capital  punishments.  For  this  right,  like  all  other  just  autho- 
rity in  the  state,  can  only  be  derived  from  the  compact  and  virtual 
consent  of  the  citizens  which  -compose  the  state ;  and  it  seems  self- 
evident,  if  any  principle  in  morality  be  so,  that  no  one,  by  his  con- 
sent, can  transfer  to  another  a  right  which  he  does  not  possess 
himself.  It  will  be  equally  difficult  to  account  for  the  power  of 
the  state  to  commit  its  subjects  to  the  dangers  of  war,  and  to  ex- 
pose their  lives  without  scruple  in  the  field  of  battle ;  especially  in 
offensive  hostilities,  in  which  the  privileges  of  self-defence  cannot 
be  pleaded  with  any  appearance  of  truth  :  and  still  more  difficult  to 
explain,  how,  in  such,  or  any  circumstances,  prodigality  of  life  can 
be  a  virtue,  if  the  preservation  of  it  be  a  duty  of  our  nature. 


194  SUICIDE. 

This  whole  reasoning1  sets  out  from  one  error,  namely,  that  the 
slate  acquires  its  right  over  the  life  of  the  subject  from  the  subject's-: 
oivn  consent,  as  a  part  of  what  originally  and  personally  belonged 
to  himself,  and  which  he  has  made  over  to  his  governors.  The 
iruth  is,  the  state  derives  this  right  neither  from  the  consent  of  the 
subject,  nor  through  the  medium  of  that  consent ;  but,  as  I  maj 
say,  immediately  from  the  donation  of  the  Deity.  Finding  that 
such  a  power  in  the  sovereign  of  the  community  is  expedient,  it" 
not  necessary,  for  the  community  itself,  it  is  justly  presumed  to  be 
the  will  of  God,  that  the  sovereign  should  possess  and  exercise  it. 
It  is  this  presumption  which  constitutes  the  right ;  it  is  the  same 
indeed,  which  constitutes  every  other ;  and  if  thei'e  were  the  liko 
reasons  to  authorize  the  presumption  in  the  case  of  private  persons, 
suicide  would  be  as  justifiable  as  war,  or  capital  executions.  But, 
until  it  can  be  shown  that  the  power  over  human  life  may  be  con- 
verted to  the  same  advantage  in  the  hands  of  individuals  over  their 
own,  as  in  those  of  the  state  over  the  lives  of  its  subjects,  and  thai 
it  may  be  entrusted  with  equal  safety  to  both,  there  is  no  room  for 
arguing,  from  the  existence  of  such  a  right  in  the  latter,  to  the  tole 
ration  of  it  in  the  former. 


BOOK  V. 


CHAPTER  I. 

DIVISION  OF  THESE  DUTIES. 

IN  one  sense,  every  duty  is  a  duty  towards  God,  since  it  is  his 
will  which  makes  it  a  duty ;  but  there  are  some  duties  of  which 
God  is  the  object,  as  well  as  the  author  ;  and  these  are  peculiarly., 
and  in  a  more  appropriate  sense,  called  duties  towards  God. 

That  silent  piety,  which  consists  in  a  habit  of  tracing  out  the 
Creator's  wisdom  and  goodness  in  the  objects  around  us,  or  in  the 
history  of  his  dispensations ;  or  of  referring  the  blessings  we  enjoy 
to  his  bounty,  and  of  resorting  to  his  succour  in  our  distress  ;  may 
possibly  be  more  acceptable  to  the  Deity  than  any  visible  expres- 
sions of  devotion  whatever.  Yet  these  latter  (which  although  they 
may  be  excelled,  are  not  superseded  by  the  former)  compose  the 
only  part  of  the  subject  which  admits  of  direction  or  disquisition 
from  a  moralist. 

Our  duty  towards  God,  so  far  as  it  is  external,  is  divided  into 
worship  and  reverence.  God  is  the  immediate  object  of  both, ;  and 
the  difference  between  them  is,  that  the  one  consists  in  action,  the 
other  in  forbearance.  When  we  go  to  church  on  the  Lord's  day, 
led  thither  by  a  sense  of  duty  towards  God,  we  perform  an  act  ol 
worship  ;  when  we  rest  in  a  journey  upon  that  day,  from  the  same 
motive,  we  discharge  a  duty  or  reverence. 

Divine  worship  is  made  up  of  adoration,  thanksgiving,  and  pray- 
er.— But  as  what  we  have  to  offer  concerning  the  two  former  maj 
be  observed  of  prayer,  we  shall  make  that  the  title  of  the  following, 
chapters,  and  the  direct  subject  of  our  consideration. 


I9ti  OF   PRAYER. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

OP  THE  DUTY  AND  OF  THE  EFFICACY  OF  PRAYER,  SO  FAR  AS   Tiii 
SAME  APPEAR  FROM  THE  LIGHT  OF  NATURE. 

WHEN  one  man  desires  to  obtain  any  thing  of  another,  he  be- 
takes himself  to  entreaty ;  and  this  may  be  observed  of  mankind  in 
all  ages  and  countries  of  the  world.  Now  what  is  universal,  may 
be  called  natural ;  and  it  seems  probable  that  God,  as  our  supreme 
governor,  should  expect  that  towards  himself,  which  by  a  natural 
impulse,  or  by  the  irresistible  order  of  our  constitution,  he  has 
prompted  us  to  pay  to  every  other  being  on  whom  we  depend. 

The  same  may  be  said  of  thanksgiving. 

Again,  prayer  is  necessary  to  keep  up  in  the  minds  of  mankind  a 
sense  of  God's  agency  in  the  universe  and  of  their  dependency  up- 
on him.* 

But,  after  all,  the  duty  of  prayer  depends  upon  its  efficacy :  for  I 
confess  myself  unable  to  conceive,  how  any  man  can  pray,  or  be 
obliged  to  pray,  who  expects  nothing  from  his  prayer ;  but  who  is 
persuaded,  at  the  time  he  utters  his  request,  that  it  cannot  possibly 
produce  the  smallest  impression  upon  the  Being  to  whom  it  is  ad- 
dressed, or  advantage  to  himself.  Now  the  efficacy  of  prayer  im- 
ports that  we  obtain  something-  in  consequence  of  praying,  which 
we  should  not  have  received  without  prayer  ;  against  all  expecta- 
tion of  which,  the  following  objection  has  been  often  and  seriously 
alleged  : — "If  it  be  most  agreeable  to  perfect  wisdom  and  justice 
"that  we  should  receive  what  we  desire,  God,  as  perfectly  wise 
4  and  just,  will  give  it  to  us  without  asking;  if  it  be  not  agreeable 
•'  to  these  attributes  of  his  nature,  our  entreaties  cannot  move  him 
-'to  give  it  us,  and  it  were  impious  to  expect  they  should."  In 
fewer  words,  thus ;  "  If  what  we  request  be  fit  for  us,  we  shall  have 
''it  without  praying;  if  it  be  not  fit  for  us,  we  cannot  obtain  it  bj 
•'praying."  This  objection  admits  but  of  one  answer,  namely, 
that  it  may  be  agreeable  to  perfect  wisdom  to  grant  that  to  our 
prayers,  which  it  would  not  have  been  agreeable  to  the  same  wis- 
dom to  have  given  us  without  praying  for.  But  what  virtue,  you 
will  ask,  is  there  in  prayer,  which  should  make  a  favour  consistent 
with  wisdom,  which  would  not  have  been  so  without  it  ?  To  this 
'question,  which  contains  the  whole  difficulty  attending  the  subject, 
the  following-  possibilities  are  offered  in  reply : — 

I.  A  favour  granted  to  prayer  may  be  more  apt,  on  that  very  ac- 
count, to  produce  good  effects  upon  the  person  obliged.  It  may 
hold  in  the  Divine  bounty,  what  experience  has  raised  into  a  pro- 


OF    PRAYER.  10* 

Verb  in  the  collation  of  humau  benefits,  that  what  is  obtained  with- 
out asking",  is  oftentimes  received  without  gratitude. 

2.  It  may  be  consistent  with  the  wisdom  of  the  Deity  to  with- 
hold his  favours  till  they  be  asked  for,  as  an  expedient  to  encourage 
devotion  in  his  rational  creation,  in  order  thereby  to  keep  up 
and  circulate  a  knowledge  and  sense  of  their  dependency  upon 
him. 

3.  Prayer  has  a  natural  tendency  to  amend  the  petitioner  him- 
self; and  thus  to  bring  him  within  the  rules  which  the  wisdom  of 
the  Deity  has  prescribed  to  the  dispensation  of  his  favours. 

If  these,  or  any  other  assignable  suppositions,  serve  to  remove 
the  apparent  repugnancy  between  the  success  of  prayer  and  the 
character  of  the  Deity,  it  is  enough  ;  for  the  question  with  the  pe- 
titioner is  not  from  which,  out  of  many  motives,  God  may  granf 
his  petition,  or  in  what  particular  manner  he  is  moved  by  the  sup- 
plications of  his  creatures  ;  but  whether  it  be  consistent  with  his 
nature  to  be  moved  at  all,  and  whether  there  be  any  conceivable 
motives  which  may  dispose  the  divine  will  to  grant  the  petitioner 
what  he  wants,  in  consequence  of  his  praying  for  it.  It  is  suffi- 
cient for  the  petitioner,  that  he  gain  his  end.  It  is  not  necessary 
to  devotion,  perhaps  not  very  consistent  with  it,  that  the  circuit  of 
causes,  by  which  his  prayers  prevail,  should  be  known  to  the  peti- 
tioner, much  less  that  they  should  be  present  to  his  imagination  at 
the  time.  All  that  is  necessary  is,  that  there  be  no  impossibility 
apprehended  in  the  matter. 

Thus  much  must  be  conceded  to  the  objection  ;  that  prayer  can- 
not reasonably  be  offered  to  God  with  all  the  same  views,  with 
which  we  oftentimes  address  our  entreaties  to  men,  (views  which 
are  not  commonly  or  easily  separated  from  it,)  viz.  to  inform  them 
of  our  wants  or  desires  ;  to  tease  them  out  by  importunity  ;  to 
work  upon  their  indolence  or  compassion,  to  persuade  them  to  do 
what  they  ought  to  have  done  before,  or  ougrht  not  to  do  at  all. 

But  suppose  there  existed  a  prince,  who  was  known  by  his  sub- 
jects to  act,  of  his  own  accord,  always  and  invariably  for  the  best ; 
the  situation  of  a  petitioner,  who  solicited  a  favour  or  pardon  from 
such  a  prince,  would  sufficiently  resemble  ours  :  and  the  question 
with  him,  as  with  us,  would  be,  whether,  the  character  of  the 
prince  being  considered,  there  remained  any  chance  that  he  should 
obtain  from  him  by  prayer,  what  he  would  not  have  received  with- 
out it.  I  do  not  conceive  that  the  character  of  such  a  prince  would 
necessarily  exclude  the  effect  of  his  subject's  prayer  ;  for,  when 
that  prince  reflected,  that  the  earnestness  and  humility  of  the  sup- 
plication had  generated  in  the  suppliant  a  frame  of  mind,  upon 


198  OF    PRAYER. 

which  the  pardon  or  favour  asked  would  produce  a  permanent  and 
active  sense  of  gratitude  ;  that  the  granting  of  it  to  prayer  would 
put  others  upon  praying  to  him,  and  by  that  means  preserve  the 
love  and  submission  of  his  subjects,  upon  which  love  and  submis- 
sion their  own  happiness,  as  well  as  his  glory  depended  ;  that,  be- 
side that,  the  memory  of  the  particular  kindness  would  be  height- 
ened and  prolonged  by  the  anxiety  with  which  it  had  been  sued 
for,  prayer  had  in  other  respects  so  disposed  and  prepared  the  mind 
of  the  petitioner,  as  to  render  capable  of  future  services  him  who 
before  was  unqualified  for  any  :  might  not  that  prince,  I  say,  al- 
though he  proceeded  upon  no  other  considerations  than  the  strict 
rectitude  and  expediency  of  the  measure,  grant  a  favour  or  pardon 
to  this  man,  which  he  did  not  grant  to  another,  who  was  too  proud, 
too  lazy,  or  too  busy,  too  indifferent  whether  he  received  it  or  not. 
or  too  insensible  of  the  sovereign's  absolute  power  to  give  or  to 
withhold  it,  ever  to  ask  for  it  ?  or^  even  to  the  philosopher,  who, 
from  an  opinion  of  the  fruitlessness  of  all  addresses  to  a  prince  of 
the  character  which  he  had  formed  to  himself,  refused  in  his  own 
example,  and  discouraged  in  others,  all  outward  returns  of  grati- 
tude, acknowledgments  of  duty,  or  application  to  the  sovereign's 
mercy,  or  bounty  ;  the  disuse  of  which,  (seeing  affections  do  not 
long  subsist  which  are  never  expressed,)  was  followed  by  a  decay 
of  loyalty  and  zeal  amongst  his  subjects,  and  threatened  to  end  in 
a  forgetfulness  of  his  rights,  and  a  contempt  of  his  authority  ? 
These,  together  with  other  assignable  considerations,  and  some  per- 
haps inscrutable,  and  even  inconceivable  by  the  persons  upon 
whom  his  will  was  to  be  exercised,  might  pass  in  the  mind  of  the 
prince,  and  move  his  counsels  :  whilst  nothing,  in  the  mean  time, 
dwelt  in  the  petitioner's  thoughts,  but  a  sense  of  his  own  grief  and 
wants  ;  of  the  power  and  goodness  from  which  alone  he  was  to  look 
for  relief;  and  of  his  obligation  to  endeavour,  by  future  obedience, 
(o  render  that  person  propitious  to  his  happiness,  in  whose  hands, 
and  at  the  disposal  of  whose  mercy,  he  found  himself  to  be. 

The  objection  to  prayer  supposes,  that  a  perfectly  wise  being 
must  necessarily  be  inexorable  ;  but  where  is  the  proof,  that  inex- 
orability is  any  part  of  perfect  wisdom ;  especially  of  that  wisdom 
which  is  explained  to  consist  in  bringing  about  the  most  beneficial 
ends  by  the  wisest  means  ? 

The  objection  likewise  assumes  another  principle,  which  is  attend- 
ed with  considerable  difficulty  and  obscurity,  namely,  that  upon  eve- 
ry occasion  there  is  one,  and  only  one  mode  of  action  for  the  best  ; 
and  that  the  divine  will  is  necessarily  determined  and  confined  to 
that  mode :  both  which  positions  presume  a  knowledge  of  univer- 


OF   PRAYER.  19^ 

Sal  nature  much  beyond  what  we  are  capable  of  attaining.  Indeed, 
when  we  apply  to  the  divine  nature  such  expressions  as  these, 
"  God  must  always  do  what  is  right,"  'v  God  cannot,  from  the  mo- 
"  ral  perfection  and  necessity  of  his  nature,  act  otherwise  than  for 
"  the  best,"  we  ought  to  apply  them  with  much  indeterminateness 
and  reserve ;  or  rather,  we  ought  to  confess,  that  there  is  something 
in  the  subject  out  of  the  reach  of  our  apprehension;  for,  to  our 
apprehension,  to  be  under  a  necessity  of  acting  according  to  any 
rule,  is  inconsistent  with  free  agency  :  and  it  makes  no  difference, 
which  we  can  understand,  whether  the  necessity  be  internal  or 
external,  or  that  the  rule  is  the  rule  of  perfect  rectitude. 

But  efficacy  is  ascribed  to  prayer,  without  the  proof,  we  are  tolJ, 
which  can  alone  in  such  a  subject  produce  conviction, — the  confir- 
mation of  experience.     Concerning  the  appeal  to  experience,  I 
shall  content  myself  with  this  remark,  that  if  prayer  were  suffered 
to  disturb  the  order  of  second  causes  appointed  in  the  universe  too 
much,  or  to  produce  its  effects  with  the  same  regularity  that  they 
do,  it  would  introduce  a  change  into  human  affairs,  which  in  some 
important  respects,  would  be  evidently  for  the  worse.     Who,  for 
example,   would  labour,  if  his  necessities  could  be  supplied  with 
equal  certainty  by  prayer  ?  How  few  would  contain,  within  any 
bounds  of  moderation,  those  passions  and  pleasures,  which  at  present 
are  checked  only  by  disease,  or  the  dread  of  it,  if  prayer  would 
infallibly  restore  health?    In  short,  if  the  efficacy  of  prayer  were  so 
constant  and  observable  as  to  be  relied  upon  beforehand,  it  is  easy 
to  foresee  that  the  conduct  of  mankind  would,   in  proportion  to 
that  reliance,  become  careless  and  disorderly.     It  is  possible,  in 
the  nature  of  things,  that  our  prayers  may,  in  many  instances,  be 
efficacious,  and  yet  our  experience  of  their  efficacy  be  dubious  and 
obscure.     Therefore,  if  the  light  of  nature  instruct  us  by  any  other 
arguments  to  hope  for  effect  from  prayer  ;  still  more,  if  the  Scrip- 
tures authorize  these  hopes  by  promises  of  acceptance ;  it  seems 
not  a  sufficient  reason  for  calling  in  question  the  reality  of  such  ef- 
fects, that  our  observations  of   them  are   ambiguous ;  especially 
since  it  appears  probable,  that  this  very  ambiguity  is  necessary  te 
the  happiness  and  safety  of  human  life. 

But  some,  whose  objections  do  not  exclude  all  prayer,  are  offend- 
ed with  the  mode  of  prayer  in  use  amongst  us,  and  with  many  of  the 
subjects  which  are  almost  universally  introduced  into  public  wor- 
ship, and  recommended  to  private  devotion.  To  pray  for  particu- 
lar favours  by  name,  is  to  dictate,  it  has  been  said,  to  divine  wisdom 
and  goodness  :  to  intercede  for  others,  especially  for  whole  nations 
and  empires,  is  still  worse ;  it  is  to  presume  that  we  possess  such  an 


200  OF  PRAYER. 

interest  with  the  Deity,  as  to  be  able,  by  our  applications,  to  bent! 
the  most  important  of  his  counsels ;  and  that  the  happiness  of  others} 
and  even  the  prosperity  of  whole  communities,  is  to  depend  upon 
this  interest,  and, upon  our  choice.  Now  how  unequal  soever  out 
knowledge  of  the  divine  economy  may  be  to  the  solution  of  this 
difficulty,  which  may  require  a  comprehension  of  the  entire  plan, 
and  of  all  the  ends  of  God's  moral  government,  to  explain  satisfac- 
torily, we  can  understand  one  thing  concerning  it,  that  it  is,  after 
all,  nothing  more  than  the  making  of  one  man  the  instrument  of 
happiness  and  misery  to  another;  which  is  perfectly  of  a  piece  with 
the  course  and  order  that  obtain,  and  which  -we  must  believe  were 
intended  to  obtain,  in  human  affairs.  Why  may  we  not.  be  assisted 
by  the  prayers  of  orher  men,  who  are  beholden  for  our  support  to 
their  labour  ?  Why  may  not  our  happiness  be  made  in  some  cases 
to  depend  upon  the  intercession,  as  it  certainly  in  many  does  upon 
the  good  offices,  of  our  neighbours  ?  The  happiness  and  misery  of 
great  numbers  we  see  oftentimes  at  the  disposal  of  one  man's  choice, 
or  liable  to  be  much  affected  by  his  conduct ;  what  greater  difficulty 
is  there  in  supposing,  that  the  prayers  of  an  individual  may  avert  a 
calamity  from  multitudes,  or  be  accepted  to  the  benefit  of  whole 
communities  ? 


CHAPTER  III. 

«JF  THE  DUTY  AND  EFFICACY  OF  PRAYER,  AS  REPRESENTED  /,\ 
SCRIPTURE. 

THE  reader  will  have  observed,  that  the  reflections  stated  in  the 
preceding  chapter,  whatever  truth  and  weight  they  may  be  allow- 
ed to  contain,  rise  many  of  them  no  higher  than  to  negative  argu- 
ments in  favour  of  the  propriety  of  addressing  prayer  lo  God.  To 
prove  that  the  efficacy  of  prayers  is  not  inconsistent  with  the  attri- 
butes of  the  Deity,  does  not  prove  that  prayers  are  actually  effica- 
cious :  ,and  in  the  want  of  that  unequivocal  testimony  which  expe- 
rience alone  could  afford  to  this  point,  (but  which  we  do  not  pos- 
sess, and  have  seen  good  reason  why  we  arc  not  to  expect,)  the 
light  of  nature  leaves  us  to  controverted  probabilities,  drawn  from 
the  impulse  by  which  mankind  have  been  almost  universally 
prompted  to  devotion,  and  from  some  beneficial  purposes,  which,  it 
is  conceived,  ma}'  be  better  answered  by  the  audience  of  prayer 
than  by  any  other  mode  of  communicating  the  same  blessings.  The 
revelations  which  we  deem  authentic,  completely  supply  this  defect 


OF   PRAYER.  201 

of  natural  religion.  They  require  prayer  to  God  as  a  duty;  and 
they  contain  positive  assurances  of  its  efficacy  and  acceptance, 
We  could  have  no  reasonable  motive  for  the  exercise  of  prayer, 
without  believing  that  it  may  avail  to  the  relief  of  our  wants.  This 
belief  can  only  be  founded,  either  in  a  sensible  experience  of  the 
effect  of  prayer,  or  in  promises  of  acceptance  signified  by  divine 
authority.  Our  knowledge  would  have  come  to  us  in  the  former 
way,  less  capable,  indeed,  of  doubt,  but  subjected  to  the  abuses  and 
inconveniences  briefly  described  above  ;  in  the  latter  way,  that  is, 
by  authorizing  significations  of  God's  general  disposition  to  hear 
find  answer  the  devout  supplications  of  his  creatures,  we  are  en- 
couraged to  pray,  but  not  to  place  such  a  dependence  upon  prayer, 
as  might  relax  other  obligations,  or  confound  the  order  of  events 
and  human  expectations. 

The  Scriptures  not  only  affirm  the  propriety  of  prayer  in  gene- 
ral, but  furnish  precepts  or  examples  which  justify  some  topic? 
and  modes  of  prayer  that  have  been  thought  exceptionable.  And 
as  the  whole  subject  rests  so  much  upon  the  foundation  of  Scrip- 
lure,  I  shall  put  down  at  length,  texts  applicable  to  the  five  fol- 
lowing heads  :  to  the  duty  and  efficacy  of  prayer  in  general  ;  of 
prayer  for  particular  favours  by  name :  for  public  national  bles- 
sings ;  of  intercession  for  others ;  of  the  repetition  of  unsuccessfui 
prayers. 

I.  Texts  enjoining  prayer  in  general:  "Ask,  and  it  shall  be 
"  given  you ;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find — If  3^6,  being  evil,  know 
"  how  to  give  goorl  gifts  unto  your  children,  how  much  more  shall 
"your  Father,  which  is  in  heaven,  give  good  things  to  them  thai 
"  ask  him  ?" — "  Watch  ye,  therefore,  and  pray  always,  that  ye 
':  may  be  accounted  worthy  to  escape  all  those  things  that  shall 
"come  to  pass,  and  to  stand  before  the  Son  of  Man." — "  Serving  the 
"-'•  Lord,  rejoicing  in  hope,  patient  in  tribulation,  continuing  instant 
'••in  prayer." — "Be  careful  for  nothing,  but  in  every  thing  fa 
"•prayer  and  supplication,  with  thanksgiving,  let  your  requests  be 
44  made  known  unto  God." — "  I  will,  therefore,  that  men  pray  ev- 
"  erywhere,  lifting  up  holy  hands  without  wrath  and  doubting."- 
"Pray  without  ceasing."  Matt.  vii.  7,  11;  Luke,  xxi.  36  ;  Rom, 
xii.  12;  Philip,  iv.  6;  1  Thess.  v.  17  ;  1  Tim.  ii.  8.  Add  to  these, 
fhat  Christ's  reproof  of  the  ostentation  and  prolixity  of  pharisaical 
prayers,  and  his  recommendation  to  his  disciples  of  retirement 
and  simplicity  in  theirs,  together  with  his  dictating  a  particular 
form  of  prayer,  all  presuppose  prayer  to  be  an  acceptable  and 
availing  service. 

5.  Examples  of  prayer  for  particular  favours  by  name;  "For 
18 


&•£  OF    PRAYER, 

"  this  thing  (to  wit,  some  bodily  infirmity,  which  Le  calls  <  a  thorn 
"given  him  in  the  flesh')  I  besought  the  Lord  thrice,  that  it  might 
"  depart  from  me."—"  Night  and  day  praying  exceedingly,  that 
"  we  might  see  your  face,  and  perfect  that  which  is  lacking  in  your 
"  faith."  2  Cor.  xii.  8;  1  Thess.  iii.  10. 

3.  Directions  to  pray  for  national  or  public  blessings :  "  Pray 
"for  the  peace  of  Jerusalem."—"  Ask  ye  of  the  Lord  rain,  m  the 
"  time  of  the  latter  rain ;  so  the  Lord  shall  make  bright  clouds. 
"  and  give  them  showers  of  rain,  to  every  one  grass  in  the  field." — 
"I  exhort,  therefore,  that  first  of  all,  supplications,  prayers,  inter- 
"  cessions,  and  giving  of  thanks,  be  made  for  all  men;  for  kings, 
"  and  for  all  that  arc  in  authority,  that  we  may  lead  a  quiet  and 
"  peaceable  life,  in  all  godliness  and  honesty;  for  this  is  good  and 
"acceptable  in  the  sight  of  God  our  Saviour."  Psalm  cxxii.  6; 
Zech.  x.  *•;  1  Tim.  ii.  1,  2,  3. 

4.  Examples  of  intercession,   and  exhortations  to  intercede  for 
others : — "  And  Moses  besought  the  Lord  his  God,  and  said,  Lord, 
"why  doth  thy  wrath  wax  hot  against  thy  people?     Remember 
"  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Israel,  thy  servants.     And  the  Lord  repen- 
"  ted  of  the  evil  which  he  thought  to  do  unto  his  people." — "Pe- 
"  ter  therefore  was  kept  in  prison,  but  prayer  was  made  without 
"  ceasing  of  the  Church  unto  God  for  him." — "  For  God  is  my 
"witness,   that  without  ceasing  / make  mention  of  you  always  in 
"my  prayers." — '"  Now  I  beseech  you,  brethren,  for  the  Lord  Je- 
"  sus  Christ's  sake,  and  for  the  love  of  the  Spirit,  that  ye  strive  toge- 
"  ther  with  rne   in  your  prayers  for  me." — "  Confess  your  faults 
"  one  to  another,  and  pray  one  for  another,  that  ye  may  be  heal- 
"  ed :  the   effectual   fervent   prayer  of  a    righteous   man    availcth 
"  much."  Exod.  xxxii.  1 1  ;  Acts,  xii.  5  ;  Rom.  i.  9.  xv.  30 ;  James, 
v.  16. 

5.  Declarations  and  examples  authorizing  the  repetition  of  unsuc- 
cessful prayers  :    "  And  he  spoke  a  parable  unto  them,  to  this  end, 
'-  that  men  ought  always  to  pray,  and  not  to  faint." — "And  he  left 
"  them,  and  went  away  again,  and  prayed  the  third  time,  saying  the 
"  same  words." — "  For  this  thing  I  besought  the  Lord  thrice,  that 
"  it  might  depart  from  me."    Luke,  xviii.  1 ;  Matt.  xxvi.  44.  2  Cor. 
xii.  8.* 

*The  reformed  churches  of  Christendom,  sticking  close  in  this  article  to  their 
guide,  have  laid  aside  prayers  for  the  dead,  as  authorized  by  no  precept  or  prece- 
dent found  in  Scripture.  For  the  same  reason  they  properly  reject  the  invocation 
of  saints  ;  as  also,  because  such  invocations  suppose,  in  the  saints  whom  they  ad- 
dress, a  knowledge  which  can  perceive  what  passes  in  different  regions  of  the 
earth  at  the  same  time.  And  they  deem  it  too  much  to  take  for  granted,  without 


OF   PHASER.  203 

CHAPTER    XV. 

UF  PRIVATE  PRAYER,  FAMILY  PRAYER,   AND  PCBLIC  WORSHIP. 

CONCERNING  these  three  descriptions  of  devotion,  it  is  first  of  all 
to  be  observed,  that  they  have  each  their  separate  and  peculiar  use.; 
and  therefore,  that  the  exercise  of  one  species  of  worship,  however 
regular  it  be,  does  not  supersede  or  dispense  with  the  obligation  of 
either  of  the  other  two. 

I.  Private  prayer,  is  recommended  for  the  sake  of  the  follow- 
ing advantages : 

Private  wants  cannot  always  be  made  the  subject  of  public  pray- 
er ;  but  whatever  reason  there  is  for  praying  at  all,  there  is  the 
same  for  making  the  sore  and  grief  of  each  man's  own  heart  the 
business  of  bis  application  to  God.  This  must  be  the  office  of  pri- 
vate exercises  of  devotion,  being  imperfectly,  if  at  all,  practicable 
in  any  other. 

Private  prayer  is  generally  more  hearty  and  earnest  than  the 
*hare  we  are  capable  of  taking  in  joint  acts  of  worship ;  because  it 
affords  leisure  and  opportunity  for  the  circumstantial  recollection 
of  those  personal  wants,  by  the  remembrance  and  ideas  of  which 
the  warmth  and  earnestness  of  prayer  is  chiefly  excited. 

Private  prayer,  in  proportion  as  it  is  usually  accompanied  with 
more  .actual  thought  and  reflection  of  the  petitioner's  own,  has  a 
greater  tendency  than  other  modes  of  devotion  to  revive  and  fas- 
ten upon  the  mind  the  general  impressions  of  religion.  Solitude 
powerfully  assists  this  effect.  When  a  man  finds  himself  alone  in 
communication  with  his  Creator,  his  imagination  becomes  filled 
with  a  conflux  of  awful  ideas  concerning  the  universal  agency,  and 
invisible  presence,  of  that  Being;  concerning  what  is  likely  to  be- 
come of  himself;  and  of  the  superlative  importance  of  providing  for 
the  happiness  of  his  future  existence,  by  endeavours  to  please  him. 
who  is  the  arbiter  of  his  destiny;  reflections,  which,  whenever 
they  gain  admittance,  for  a  season  overwhelm  all  others  ;  and  leave 
when  they  depart,  a  solemnity  upon  the  thoughts,  that  will  seldom 
fail,  in  some  degree,  to'effect  the  conduct  of  life. 

Private  prayer,  thus  recommended  by  its  own  propriety,  and  by 
advantages  not  attainable  in  any  form  of  religious  communion,  re- 
ceives a  superior  sanction  from  the  authority  and  example  of 
Christ:  "When  thou  prayest,  enter  into  thy  closet;  and  when 

•he  smallest  intimation  of  such  a  thing  in  Scripture,  tHat  any  created  being  pos- 
sesses a  faculty  little  short  of  that  omniscience  and  omnipresence  which  they  as 
,-:ribe  to  .the  Dcit}'. 


204  OF   TRAYER. 

;:  thou  hast  shut  thy  door,  pray  to  thy  Father,  wluch  is  in  secret , 
-;  and  thy  Father,  which  seeth  in  secret,  shall  reward  thce  openly." 
— "  And  when  he  had  sent  the  multitudes  away,  he  went  up  intr 
'•'•  a  mountain  apart  to  pray."  Matt.  vi.  6.  xiv.  23. 

II.  Family  prayer. 

'The  peculiar  use  of  family  piety  consists  in  its  influence  upon  ser- 
vants, and  the  young  members  of  a  family,  who  want  sufficient  se- 
riousness and  reflection  to  retire  of  their  own  accord  to  the  exer- 
cise of  private  devotion,  and  whose  attention  you  cannot  easily 
command  in  public  worship.  The  example  also  and  authority  of 
a  father  and  master  act,  in  this  way  with  the  greatest  force ;  for  his 
private  prayers,  to  which  his  children  and  servants  are  not  witness- 
es, act  not  at  all  upon  them  as  examples  ;  and  his  attendance  up- 
on public  worship  they  will  readily  impute  to  fashion,  to  a  care  to 
preserve  appearances,  to  a  concern  for  decency  and  character,  and 
fo  many  motives  besides  a  sense  of  duty  to  God.  Add  to  this, 
(hat  forms  of  public  worship  in  proportion  as  they  are  more  com- 
prehensive, are  always  less  interesting  than  family  prayers  ;  and 
that  the  ardour  of  devotion  is  better  supported,  and  the  sympathy 
more  easily  propagated,  through  a  small  assembly  connected  by 
ihc  affections  of  domestic  society,  than  in  the  presence  of  a  mixrd 
Congregation. 

III.  Public  icorship. 

If  the  worship  of  God  be  a  duty  of  religion,  public  worship  is  a 
necessary  institution ;  forasmuch  as,  without  it,  the  greater  part  of 
mankind  would  exercise  no  religious  worship  at  all. 

These  assemblies  afford  also,  at  the  same  time,  opportunities  for 
moral  and  religious  instruction  to  those  who  otherwise  would  re- 
oefve  none.  In  all  Protestant,  and  in  most  Christian  countries  the 
elements  of  natural  religion,  and  the  important  parts  of  the  evan- 
n-elic  history,  are  familiar  to  the  lowest  of  the  people.  This  com- 
petent degree  and  general  diffusion  of  religious  knowledge  amongst 
all  orders  of  Christians,  which  will  appear  a  great  thing  when  com- 
pared with  the  intellectual  condition  of  barbarous  nations,  can  fair 
Iv,  I  think,  be  ascribed  to  no  other  cause  than  the  regular  estab 
Ushment  of  assemblies  for  divine  worship  :  in  which,  either  portions 
of  Scripture  are  recited  and  explained,  or  the  principles  of  Chris- 
tian erudition  arc  so  constantly  taught  in  sermons,  incorporated 
svith  liturgies,  or  expressed  in  extempore  prayer,  as  to  imprint,  by 
fhe  very  repetition,  some  knowledge  and  memory  of  these  subject? 
•ipon  the  most  unqualified  and  careless  hearer. 

The  two  reasons  above  stated,  bind  all  the  members  of  a  com- 
munity to  uphold  public  worship  by  their  presence  and  example 


OF    PKAYEK.  205 

-allhoug-h  tlic  helps  and  opportunities  which  it  affords  may  not  be 
necessary  to  the  devotion  or  edification  of  all ;  and  to  some  may  be 
useless  :  for   it  is  easily  foreseen,  how  soon  religious  assemblies 
would  fall  into  contempt  and  disuse,  if  that  class  of  mankind  who 
are  above  seeking  instruction  in  them,  and  want  not  that  their  own 
piety  should  be  assisted  by  either  forms  or  society  in  devotion,  were 
(o  withdraw  their  attendance  :  especially  when  it  is  considered, 
that  all  who  please,  are  at  liberty  to  rank  themselves  of  this  class. 
This  argument  meets  the  following,  and  the  only  serious  apology 
I  hat  is  made  for  tlie  absenting  of  ourselves  from  public  worship. 
;£  Surely  I  may  be  excused  from  going  to  church,  so  long  as  I  pray 
•'  at  home ;  and  have  no  reason  to  doubt  but  that  my  prayers  arc 
''  equally  acceptable  and  efgcacious  in  my  closet  as  in  a  cathedral ; 
•'  still  less  can  I  think  myself  9bliged  to  sit  out  a  tedious  sermon,  in 
~'  order  to  hear  what  is  known  already,  or  better  learnt  from  books, 
-'  or  suggested  by  meditation."     They,  whose  qualifications  and 
habits  best  supply  to  themselves  all  the  effect  of  public  ordinances, 
will  be  the  last  to  prefer  this  excuse,  when  they  reflect  upon  the 
general  consequence  of  setting  up  such  an  exemption,  as  well  as  the 
turn  which  is  sure  to  be  given  in  the  neighbourhood  to  their  ab- 
sence from  public  worship.     You  stay  from  church,  to  employ  the 
Sabbath  at  home  in  exercises  and  studies  suited  to  its  proper  busi- 
ness :  your  next  neighbour  stays  from  church,  to  spend  the  seventh 
day  less  religiously  than  he  passed  any  of  the  six,  in  a  sleepy,  stu- 
pid rest,  or  at  some  rendezvous  of  drunkenness  and  debauchery, 
and  yet  thinks  that  he  is   only   imitating  you,  because  you  both 
agree  in  not  going  to  church.     The  same  consideration  should 
overrule  many  small  scruples  concerning  the  rigorous   propriety 
of  some  things  which  may  be  contained  in  the  forms,  or  admitted 
into  the   administration  of  the  public  worship  of  our  communion  ; 
for,  it  seems  impossible  that  even  "  two  or  three  should  be  gather- 
"  ed  together''  in  any  act  of  social  worship,  if  each  one  require 
from  the  rest  an  implicit  submission  to  his  objections,  and  if  no 
man  will  attend  upon  a  religious  service  which  in  any  point  con- 
tradicts his  opinion  of  truth,  or  falls  short  of  his  ideas  of  perfection* 
Beside  tlie  direct  necessity  of  public  worship  to  the  greater  part 
of  every  Christian  community,  (supposing  worship  at  all  to  be  a 
Christian  duty,)  there  are  other  valuable  advantages  growing  out  of 
the  use  of  religious  assemblies,  without  being  designed  in  the  insti- 
tution, or  thought  of  by  the  individuals  who  compose  them. 

1.  Joining  in  prayer  and  praises  to  their  common  Creator  and 
governor,  has  a  sensible  tendency  to  unite  mankind  together,  and 
to  cherish  and  enlarge  the  generous  affectionsv 
18* 


J(H>  OF   PRAYER 

So  many  pathetic  reflections  are  awakened  by  every  exercise  of 
;ocial  devotion,  that  most  men,  I  believe,  carry  away  from  public 
worship  a  better  temper  towards  the  rest  of  mankind,  than  the\ 
brought  with  them.     Sprung  from  the  same  extraction,  preparing, 
'ogether  for  the  period  of  all  worldly  distinctions,  reminded  of  their 
mutual  infirmities  and  common  dependency,  imploring  and  receiv- 
ing support  and  supplies  from  the  same  great  source  of  power  and 
bounty,   having  all  one  interest  to  secure,  one  Lord  to  serve,  one 
judgment,  the  supreme  object  to  all  their  hopes  and  fears,  to  look 
towards ;  it  is  hardly  possible,  in  this  position,  to  behold  mankind  as 
strangers,  competitors,  or  enemies ;  or  not  to  regard  them  as  chil- 
dren of  the  same  family,  assembled  before  their  common  parent, 
and  with  some  portion  of  the  tenderness  which  belongs  to  the  most 
endearing  of  our  domestic  relations..    It  is  not  to  be  expected,  that 
my  single   effect  of  this  kind  should  be  considerable  or  lasting  ; 
but  the  frequent  return  of  such  sentiments  as  the  presence  of  a  de- 
vout congregation  naturally  suggests,  will  gradually  melt  down  the 
ruggedness  of  many  unkind  passions,  and  may  generate  in  time  a 
permanent  and  productive  benevolence. 

2.  Assemblies  for  the  purpose  of  divine  worship,  placing  men  un- 
der impressions  by  which  they  are  taught  to  consider  their  relation 
to  the  Deity,  and  to  contemplate  those  around  them  with  a  view  to 
that  relation,  force  upon  their  thoughts  the  natural  equality  of  the 
human  species,  and  thereby  promote  humility  and  condescension  in 
the  highest  orders  of  the  community,  and  inspire  the  lowest  with 
a  sense  of  their  rights.     The  distinctions  of  civil  life  are 'almost  al- 
ways insisted  upon  too  much  and  urged  too  far.  Whatever,  therefore, 
conduces  to  restore  the  level,  by  qualifying  the  dispositions  which 
grow  out  of  great  elevation  or  depression  of  rank,  improves  the 
character  on  both  sides.     Now  things  are  made  to  appear  little,  by 
being  placed  beside  what  is  great.     In  which  manner,  superiorities, 
which  occupy  the  whole  field  of  the  imagination,  will  vanish  or 
shrink  to  their  proper  diminutiveness,  when  compared  with  the  dis- 
tance by  which  even  the  highest  of  men  are  removed  from  the  Su- 
preme  Being ;  and  this  comparison  is  naturally  introduced  by  ali 
acts  of  joint  worship.     If  ever  the  poor  man  holds  up  his  head,  it  is 
at  church ;  If  ever  the  rich  man  views  him  with  respect  it  is  there ; 
and  both  will  be  the  better,  and  the  public  profited,  the  oftener 
they  meet  in  a  situation,  in  which   the  consciousness  of  dignity  in 
the  one  is  tempered  and  mitigated,  and  the  spirit  of  the  other  erec- 
ted and  confirmed.    We  recommend  nothing  adverse  to  subordi- 
nations which  are  established  and  necessary  ;  but  then  it  should  be 
remembered,  that  Eiibordination  itself  is  an  evil,  being  an  evil  tc 


OF   PRAYER.  207 

the  subordinate,  who  are  the  majority,  and  therefore  ought  not  to 
be  carried  a  tittle  beyond  what  the  greater  good,  the  peaceable  gov- 
ernment of  the  community,  requires. 

The  public  worship  of  Christians  is  a  duty  of  divine  appoint- 
ment. "  Where  two  or  three,"  says  Christ,  "  are  gathered  togeth- 
•'  er  in  my  name,  there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them ;"  Matt,  xviii, 
20.  This  invitation  will  want  nothing  of  the  force  of  a  command 
with  those  who  respect  the  person  and  authority  from  which  it  pro- 
ceeds. Again,  in  the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews ;  "  Not  forsaking  the 
"assembling  of  ourselves  together,  as  the  manner  of  some  is," 
Heb.  x.  25;  which  reproof  seems  as  applicable  to  the  desertion  ol 
our  public  worship  at  this  day,  as  to  the  forsaking  the  religious  as- 
semblies of  Christians  in  the  age  of  the  Apostle.  Independent!} 
of  these  passages  of  Scripture,  a  disciple  of  Christianity  will  hard- 
ly think  himself  at  liberty  to  dispute  a  practice  set  on  foot  by  the 
inspired  preachers  of  his  religion,  coeval  with  its  institution,  and 
'•etained  by  every  sect  into  which  it  has  been  since  divided. 


CHAPTER   V. 

OF  FORMS  OF  PRAYER  IN  PUBLIC  WORSHIP. 

LITURGIES,  or  preconcerted  forms  of  public  devotion,  being  nei 
ther  enjoined  nor  forbidden  in  Scripture,  there  can  be  no  good  rea- 
son either  for  receiving  or  rejecting  them,  but  that  of  expediency  , 
which  expediency  is  to  be  gathered  from  a  comparison  of  the  ad- 
vantages and  disadvantages  attending  upon  this  mode  of  worship, 
with  those  which  usually  accompany  extemporary  prayer. 

The  advantages  of  a  liturgy  are  these : 

I.  That  it  prevents  absurd,  extravagant,  or  impious  addresses  to 
God,  which  the  folly  and  enthusiasm  of  many,  in  an  order  of  men  so 
numerous  as  the  sacerdotal,   must  always  be  in.danger  of  produ- 
cing, where  the  conduct  of  the  public  worship  is  entrusted,  without 
restraint  or  assistance  to  the  discretion  and  abilities  of  the  officia- 
ting minister. 

II.  That  it  prevents  the  confusion  of  extemporary  prayer,  iu 
which  the  congregation  being  ignorant  of  each  petition  before  they 
hear  it.  and  having  little  or  no  time  to  join  in  it.  after  they  have 
heard  it,  are  confounded  between   their  attention  to  the  minister, 
and  to  their  own  devotion.     The  devotion  of  the  hearer  is  neces- 
sarily suspended,  until  a  petition  be  concluded  ;  and  before  he  can 
assent  to  it.  or  properly  adopt  it.  that  is.  before  he  can  address  the 


205>  OF   PRAYER. 

.same  request  to  God  for  himself,  and  from  himself,  his  attention  is 
called  off  to  keep  pace  with  what  succeeds.  Add  to  this  that  the 
mind  of  the  hearer  is  held  in  continual  expectation,  and  detained 
from  its  proper  business  by  the  very  novelty  with  which  it  is  grati- 
fied. A  congregation  may  be  pleased  and  affected  with  the  prayers 
and  devotion  of  their  minister,  without  joining  in  them ;  in  like 
manner  as  an  audience  oftentimes  are  with  the  representation  of  de- 
votion upon  the  stage,  who,  nevertheless,  come  away  without  being 
conscious  of  having  exercised  any  act. of  devotion  themselves.  Joint 
prayer,  which  is  the  duty,  and  amongst  all  denominations  of  Chris- 
tians the  declared  design  of  "  coming  together,"  is  prayer  in  which 
all  join ;  and  not  that  which  one  alone  in  the  congregation  con- 
ceives and  delivers,  and  of  which  the  rest  are  merely  hearers.  This 
objection  seems  fundamental,  and  holds  even  where  the  minister's 
office  is  discharged  with  every  possible  advantage  and  accomplish- 
ment. The  labouring  recollection  and  embarrassed  or  tumultuous 
delivery,  of  many  extempore  speakers,  form  an  additional  objec- 
tion to  this  mode  of  public  worship ;  for  these  imperfections  are 
very  general,  arid  give  great  pain  to  the  serious  part  of  a  congre- 
gation, as  well  as  afford  a  profane  diversion  to  the  levity  of  the 
other  part. 

These  advantages  of  a  liturgy  are  connected  with  two  principal 
inconveniences;  first,  That  forms  of  prayer  composed  in  one  age 
become  unfit  for  another,  by  the  unavoidable  change  of  language, 
circumstances  and  opinions :  secondly,  That  the  perpetual  repeti- 
tion of  the  same  form  of  words  produces  weariness  and  inattentive- 
ness,  in  the  congregation.  However,  both  these  inconveniences 
are  in  their  nature  vincible.  Occasional  revisions  of  a  liturgy  may 
obviate  the  first,  and  devotion  will  supply  a  remedy  for  the  second : 
or  they  may  both  subsist  in  a  considerable  degree,  and  yet  be  out- 
woighed  by  the  objections  which  are  inseparable  from  extempora- 
ry prayer. 

The  Lord's  Prayer  is  a  precedent,  as  well  as  a  pattern,  for  forms 
of  prayer.  Our  Lord  appears,  if  not  to  have  prescribed,  at  least  to 
have  authorized  the  use  of  fixed  forms,  when  he  complied  with  the 
request  of  the  disciple  who  said  unto  him,  "  Lord,  teach  us  to  pray, 
•'as  John  also  taught  his  disciples.'1  Luke,  xi.  1. 

The  properties  required  in  a  public  liturgy  are,  that  it  be  com- 
pendious ;  that  it  express  just  conceptions  of  the  divine  attributes: 
that  it  recite  such  wants  as  the  congregation  are  likely  to  fee), 
rmd  no  other;  and  that  it  contain  as  few  controverted  propositions. 
:is  possible. 

T.  That  it  be  compendious. 


Of  PRATER.  209 

T<  were  no  difficult  task  to  contract  the  liturgies  of  most  churches 
mto  half  their  present  compass,  and  yet  retain  every  distinct  peti- 
tion, as  well  as  the  substance  of  every  sentiment,  which  can  be 
found  in  them.  But  brevity  may  be  studied  too  much.  The  com- 
poser of  a  liturgy  must  not  sit  down  to  his  work  with  the  hope, 
that  the  devotion  of  the  congregation  will  be  uniformly  sustained 
throughout,  or  that  every  part  will  be  attended  to  by  every  hearer. 
If  this  could  be  depended  upon  a  very  short  service  would  be  suf- 
ficient for  every  purpose  that  can  be  answered  or  designed  by  so- 
cial worship ;  but  seeing  the  attention  of  most  men  is  apt  to  wan- 
der and  return  at  intervals,  and  by  starts,  he  will  admit  a  certain 
degree  of  amplification  and  repetition,  of  diversity  of  expression 
upon  the  same  subject,  and  variety  of  phrase  and  form  with  little 
addition  to  the  sense,  to  the'end  that  the  attention,  which  has  been 
^lumbering  or  absent  during  one  part  of  the  service,  may  be  exci- 
ted and  recalled  by  another;  and  the  assembly  kept  together  un- 
til it  may  reasonably  be  presumed,  that  the  most  heedless  and  in- 
advertent have  performed  some  act  of  devotion,  and  the  most  de- 
sultory attention  been  caught  by  some  part  or  other  of  the  public 
service.  On  the  other  hand,  the  too  great  length  of  church  ser- 
vices is  more  unfavourable  to  piety  than  almost  any  fault  of  com- 
position can  be.  It  begets,  in  many,  an  early  and  unconquerable 
dislike  to  the  public  worship  of  their  country  or  communion.  They 
come  to  church  seldom;  and  enter  the  doors,  when  they  do  come, 
under  the  apprehension  of  a  tedious  attendance,  which  they  pre- 
pare for  at  first,  or  soon  after  relieve,  by  composing  themselves  to 
a  drowsy  forgetfulness  of  the  place  and  duty,  or  by  sending  abroad 
their  thoughts  in  search  of  more  amusing  occupation.  Although 
there  may  be  some  few  of  a  disposition  not  to  be  wearied  with  re- 
ligious exercises ;  yet,  where  a  ritual  is  prolix,  and  the  celebration 
of  divine  service  long,  no  effect,  is  in  general  to  be  looked  for,  but 
lhat  indolence  will  find  in  it  an  excuse,  and  piety  be  disconcerted 
by  impatience. 

The  length  and  repetitious  complained  of  in  our  liturgy,  are  not 
so  much  the  fault  of  the  compilers,  as  the  effect  of  uniting  into  one 
service  what  was  originally,  but  with  very  little  regard  to  the  con- 
v  eniency  of  the  people,  distributed  into  three.  Notwithstanding 
that  dread  of  innovations  in  religion,  which  seems  to  have  become 
the  panic  of  the  age,  few,  I  should  suppose,  would  be  displeased 
with  such  omissions,  abridgments,  or  change  in  the  arrangement, 
as  the  combination  of  separate  services  must  necessarily  require, 
even  supposing  each  to  have  been  faultless  in  itself.  If,  together' 
trith  these  alterations,  the  Epistles  and  Gospels,  and  collects  which 


2H)  OF   PRAYEP.. 

precede  them,  were  composed  and  selected  with  more  regard  to 
unity  of  subject  and   design  ;  and  the  Psalms  and  Lessons  either 
left  to  the  choice  of  the  minister,  or  better  accommodated  1 
capacity  of  the  audience,  and  the  edification  of  modern  life  ;  the 
church  of  England  would  i>e  in  possession  of  a  liturgy,  m  whi< 
those  who  assent  to  her  doctrines  would  have  little  to  blame,  ai 
the  most  dissatisfied  must  acknowledge  many  beauties.     The  style 
throughout  is  excellent ;  calm,  without  coldness  ;  and  though  eve- 
ry where  sedate,  oftentimes  affecting,     The  pauses  in   the  servi. 
are  disposed  at  proper  intervals.     The  transitions  from  one  office 
of  devotion  to  another,  from  confession  to  prayer,  from  prayer  t( 
thanksgiving,  from  thanksgiving  to  «  hearing  of  the  word," 
contrived,  like  scenes  in  the  drama,  to  supply  the  mind  with  a  suc- 
cession of  diversified  engagements.     As  much  variety  is  introduced 
also  into  the  form  of  praying,  as  this  kind  of  composition  seem* 
capable  of  admitting.     The  prayer  at  one  time  is  continued  ;  af 
another,  broken  by  responses,  or  cast  into  short  alternate  ejacula- 
tions ;  and  sometimes  the  congregation  are  called  upon  to  take 
their  share  in  the  service,  by  being  left  to  complete  a  sentence 
which  the  minister  had  begun.     The  enumeration  of  human  wants 
and  sufferings  in  the  Litany  is  almost  complete.    A  Christian  peti- 
tioner can  have  few  things  to  ask  of  God,  or  deprecate,  which  he 
will  not  find  there  expressed,  and  for  the  most  part  with  inimitable 
tenderness  and  simplicity. 

II.  That  it  express  just  conceptions  of  the  divine  attributes. 

This  is  an  article  in  which  no  care  can  be  too  great.  The  popu- 
lar notions  of  God  are  formed,  in  a  great  measure,  from  the  ac- 
counts which  the  people  receive  of  his  nature  and  character  in  their 
religious  assemblies.  An  error  here  becomes  the  error  of  multi- 
tudes ;  and  as  it  is  a  subject  in  which  almost  every  opinion  leads  the 
way  to  some  practical  conclusion,  the  purity  or  depravation  of  pub- 
lic manners  will  be  affected,  amongst  other  causes,  by  the  truth  or 
corruption  of  the  public  forms  of  worship. 

III.  That  it  recite  such  wants  as  the  congregation  are  likely  to 
feel,  and  no  other. 

Of  forms  of  prayer,  which  offend  not  egregiously  against  truth 
and  decency,  that  has  the  most  merit,  which  is  best  calculated  to 
keep  alive  the  devotion  of  the  assembly.  It  were  to  be  wished, 
therefore,  that  every  part  of  a  liturgy  were  personally  applicable 
to  every  individual  in  the  congregation  ;  and  that  nothing  were  in  - 
troduced  to  interrupt  the  passion,  or  damp  the  flame,  which  it  is 
not  easy  to  re-kindle.  Upon  this  principle,  the  state  prayers  in 
our  liturgy  should  be  fewer  and  shorter.  Whatever  may  be  pre- 


SABBATICAL    INSTITUTIONS.  211 

tended,  the  congregation  do  not  feel  that  concern  in  the  subject  of 
these  prayers,  which  must  be  felt,  or  ever  prayer  be  made  to  God 
with  earnestness.  The  state  style  likewise  seems  unseasonably  in- 
troduced into  these  prayers,  as  ill  according  with  that  annihilation 
of  human  greatness,  of  which  every  act  that  carries  the  mind  to 
God  presents  the  idea.  - 

.  IV.  That  it  contain  as  few  controverted  propositions  as  possi* 
ble. 

We  allow  to  each  church  the  truth  of  its  peculiar  tenets,  and  all 
the  importance  which  zeal  can  ascribe  to  them.  \V  e  dispute  not  here 
the  right  or  the  expediency  of  framing  creeds,  or  of  imposing  sub- 
scriptions. But  why  should  every  position  which  a  church  maintains, 
be  woven  with  so  much  industry  into  her  forms  of  public  worship? 
Some  are  offended,  and  some  are  excluded  :  this  is  an  evil  in  itself, 
at  least  to  them  ;  and  what  advantage  or  satisfaction  can  be  deri- 
ved to  the  rest,  from  the  separation  of  their  brethren,  it  is  difficult 
to  imagine ;  unless  it  were  a  duty  to  publish  pur  system  of  polemic 
divinity,  under  the  name  of  making  confession  of  our  faith,  every 
time  we  worship  God ;  or  a  sin  to  agree  in  religious  exercises  with 
those  from  whom  we  differ  in  some  religious  opinions.  Indeed, 
where  one  man  thinks  it  his  duty  constantly  to  worship  a  being 
whom  another  cannot,  with  the  assent  of  his  conscience,  permit 
iiimself  to  worship  at  all,  there  seems  to  be  no  place  for  compre- 
hension, or  any  expedient  left,  but  a  quiet  secession.  All  other 
differences  may  be  compromised  by  silence.  If  sects  and  schisms 
be  an  evil,  they  are  as  much  to  be  avoided  by  one  side  as  the 
other.  If  sectaries  are  blamed  for  taking  unnecessary  offence, 
established  churches  are  no  less  culpable  for  unnecessarily  giving 
it ;  or  bound  at  least  to  produce  a  command,  or  a  reason  of  equi- 
valent utility,  for  shutting  out  any  from  their  communion,  by  mix- 
ing with  divine  worship  doctrines  which,  whether  true  or  false,  arc 
unconnected  in  their  nature  with  devotion. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE  USE  OF  SABBATICAL  INSTITUTION?. 

AN  assembly  cannot  be  collected,  unless  the  time  of  assembling 
>>e  fixed  and  known  beforehand ;  and  if  the  design  of  the  assem- 
bly require  that  it  be  held  frequently,  it  is  easiest  that  it  should  re- 
turn at  stated  intervals.  This  produces  a  necessity  of  appropria- 
ting set  seasons  to  the  social  offices  of  religion.  It  is  also  high- 


2i£  SABBATICAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

ly  convenient  that  the  same  seasons  be  observed  throughout  the 
country,  that  all  may  be  employed,  or  all  at  leisure  together ;  for 
if  the  recess  from  worldly  occupation  be  not  general,  one  man's 
business  will  perpetually  interfere  with  another  man's  devotion; 
the  buyer  will  be  calling  at  the  shop  when  the  seller  is  gone  to 
church.  This  part,  therefore,  of  the  religious  distinction  of  sea- 
sons ;  namely,  a  general  intermission  of  labour  and  business  during 
times  previously  set  apart  for  the  exercise  of  public  worship,  is 
founded  in  the  reasons  which  make  public  worship  itself  a  duty. 
But  the  celebration  of  divine  service  never  occupies  the  whole 
clay.  What  remains,  therefore,  of  Sunday,  beside  the  part  of  it 
employed  at  church  must  be  considered  as  a  mere  rest  from  the 
ordinary  occupations  of  civil  life ;  and  he  who  would  defend  the 
institution,  as  it  is  required  to  be  observed  in  Christian  countries, 
unless  he  can  produce  a  command  for  a  Christian  Sabbath,  must 
point  out  the  uses  of  it  in  that  view. 

First,  then,  that  interval  of  relaxation  which  Sunday  affords  to 
the  laborious  part  o.f  mankind,  contributes  greatly  to  the  comfort 
und  satisfaction  of  their  lives,  both  as  it  refreshes  them  for  the  time, 
and  as  it  relieves  their  six  days  labour  by  the  prospect  of  a  day  ot 
rest1  always  approaching;  which  could  not  be  said  of  casual  indul- 
gences of  leisure  and  rest,  even  were  they  more  frequent  than  there 
is  reason  to  expect  they  would  be,  if  left  to  the  discretion  or  hu- 
manity of  interested  task-masters.  To  this  difference  it  may  be 
added,  that  holidays,  which  come  seldom  and  unexpected,  are  un- 
provided, when  they  do  come,  with  any  duty  or  employment;  and 
the  manner  of  spending  them  being  regulated  by  no  public  decency 
or  established  usage,  they  are  commonly  consumed  in  rude,  if  not 
criminal  pastimes,  in  a  stupid  sloth,  or  brutish  intemperance. 
Whoever  considers  how  much  sabbatical  institutions  conduce,  in 
this  respect,  to  the  happiness  and  civilization  of  the  labouring 
classes  of  mankind,  and  reflects  how  great  a  majority  of  the  human 
species  these  classes  compose,  will  acknowledge  the  utility,  what- 
ever he  may  believe  of  the  origin,  of  this  distinction;  and  will 
consequently  perceive  it  to  be  every  man's  duty  to  upheld  the  ob- 
servation of  Sunday  when  once  established,  let  the  establishment 
have  proceeded  from  whom  or  what  authority  it  will. 

Nor  is  there  any  thing  lost  to  the  community  by  the  intermission 
of  public  industry  one  day  in  the  week.  For  in  countries  tolerably 
advanced  in  population  and  the  arts  of  civil  life,  there  is  always 
enough  of  human  labour  and  to  spare.  The  difficulty  is  not  so 
much  to  procure,  as  to  employ  it.  The  addition  of  the  seventh 
lay's  labour  to  that  of  the  other  six,  would  have  no  other  effect 


SABBATICAL    INSTITUTIONS.  213 

to  reduce  the  price.     The  labourer  himself,  who  deserved 
and  suffered  most  of  the  change,  would  gain  nothing-. 

2.  Sunday,  by  suspending  many  public  diversions,  and  the  ordi 
nary  rotation  of  employment,  leaves  to  men  of  all  ranks  and  profes- 
sions sufficient  leisure,  and  not  more  than  what  is  sufficient,  both  for 
the  external  offices  of  Christianity,  and  the  retired,  but  equally  ne- 
cessary duties  of  religious  meditation  and  inquiry.     It  is  true,  thai 
many  do  not  convert  their  leisure  to  this  purpose  ;  but  it  is  of  mo- 
ment, and  is  all  which  a  public  institution  can  effect,  that  to  every 
one  be  allowed  the  opportunity. 

3.  They,  whose  humanity  embraces  the  whole  sensitive  creation, 
will  esteem  it  no  inconsiderable  recommendation  of  a  weekly  re- 
turn of  public  rest,  that  it  affords  a  respite  to  the  toil  of  brutes. 
Nor  can  we  omit  to  recount  this  amongst  the  uses  which  the  divine 
founder  of  the  Jewish  sabbath  expressly  appointed  a  law  of  the  in- 
stitution. 

We  admit,  that  none  of  these  reasons  show  why  SurTday  should 
be  preferred  to  any  other  day  in  the  week,  or  one  day  in  seven  to 
one  day  in  six  or  eight ;  but  these  points,  which  in  their  nature  are 
of  arbitrary  determination,  being  established  to  our  hands,  our 
obligation  applies  to  the  subsisting  establishment,  so  long  as  we 
confess  that  some  such  institution  is  necessary,  and  are  neither 
ible,  nor  attempt  to  substitute  any  other  in  its  place. 


CHAPTER    VIZ. 

Oi'  THE  SCRIPTURE  ACCOUNT  OF  SABBATICAL  INSTITUTIONS-'. 
THE  subject,  so  far  as  it  makes  any  part  of  Christian  morality. 
is  contained  in  two  questions  : 

I.  Whether  the  command,  by  which  the  Jewish  sabbath  was  in- 
stituted, extends  to  Christians  ? 

II.  Whether  any  new  command  was  delivered  by  Christ;  or  any 
other  day  substituted  in  the  place  of  the  Jewish  sabbath  by  the  au- 
thority or  example  of  his  apostles  ? 

In.  treating  of  the  first  question,  it  will  be  necessary  to  collect 
i  he  accounts  which  are  preserved  of  the  institution  in  the  Jewish 
history ;  for  the  seeing  these  accounts  together,  and  in  one  point  of 
view,  will  be  the  best  preparation  for  the  discussing  or  judging  of 
any  arguments  on  one  side  or  the  other. 

In  the  second  chapter  of  Genesis,  the  historian  having  concluded 
'•is  account  of  the  six  days  creation,  proceeds  thus  :  "  And  on  the 
19 


214  SABBATICAL   INSTITUTIONS. 

'  seventh  day  God  ended  his  work  which  he  liad  made  ;  and  Le 
;'  rested  on  the  seventh  day  from  all  his  work  which  he  had  made 
vt  and  God  blessed  the  seventh  day  and  sanctified  it,  because  that 
"in  it  he  had  rested  from  all  his  work  which- God  created  and 
'•'  made."     After  this,  we  hear  no  more  of  the  sabbath,  or  of  the 
seventh  day,  as  in  any  manner  distinguished  from  the  other  six. 
until  the  history  hring^.us  down  to  the  sojourning  of  the  Jews  in 
Ihe  wilderness,  when  Ihe  following   remarkable  passage  occiirs. 
Upon  the  complaint  of  the  people'  for  want  of  food,  God  was  pleased 
to  provide  for  their  relief  by  a  miraculous  supply  of  manna,  which 
was  found  every  morning  upon  the  ground  about  the  carnp  when 
the  dew  went  off;  "and  they  gathered  it  every  morning,  everv 
"  man  according  to  his  eating ;  and  when  the  sun  waxed  hot,  it 
"  melted  :  And  it  came  to  pass,  that  on  the  sixth  day  they  gathered 
"  twice  as  much  bread,  two  omers  for  one  man;  and  all  the  rulers 
"  of  the  congregation  came  and  told  Moses ;  and  he  said  unto  them. 
"  This  is  tlrat  which  the  Lord  hath  said,  To-morrow  is  the  rest  o) 
"  the  holy  sabbath  unto  the  Lord;  bake  that  which  ye  will  bake  to- 
•'day,  and  seethe  that  ye  will  seethe ;  and  that  which  remaineth 
'  over  lay  up  for  you,  to  be  kept  until  the  morning.     And  they  laid 
"  it  up  till  the  morning,  as  Moses  bade;  and  it  did  not  stink,  (as  it 
•'  had  done  before,  when  some  of  them  left  it  till  the  morning.)  nei- 
"  ther  was  there  any  worm  therein.     And  Moses  said,  Eat  that  to- 
"day  'if or  to-day  is  a  sabbath  unto  the  Lord,  to-day  ye  shall  nol 
"  find  it  in  the  Geld.     Six  days  ye  shall  gather  it,  but  on  the  seventh 
"  day,  which  is  the  sabbath,  in  it  there  shall  be  none.    And  it  came 
"  to  pass,  that  there  went  out  some  of  the  people  on  the  seventh 
•'  day  for  to  gather,  and  they  found  none.     And  the  Lord  said  unto 
"  Moses,  How  long  refuse  ye  to  keep  my  commandments  and  im 
•'laws  ?  See,  for  that  the  Lord  hath  s;ioen  you  the  Sabbath,  thcre- 
"  fore  he  giveth  you  on  the  sixth  day  the  bread  of  two  days ;  abide 
"  ye  every  man  in  his  place  ;  let  no  man  go  out  of  his  place  on  thr 
"seventh  day.      So  the  people  rested  on  the  seventh  day."  Ex- 
odus, xv  i. 

Not  long  after  this,  the  sabbath,  as  is  well  known,  was  establish- 
ed with  great  solemnity  in  the  fourth  commandment. 

Now,  in  my  opinion,  the  transaction  in  the  wilderness  above  re- 
cited, was  the  first  actual  institution  of  the  sabbath.  For,  if  the 
sabbath  had  been  instituted  at  the  time  of  the  creation,  as  the  word<- 
in  Genesis  may  seem  at  first  sight  to  import,  and  observed  all  along 
from  that  time  to  the  departure  of  the  Jews  out  of  Egypt,  a  period 
of  about  two  thousand  five  hundred  years,  it  appears  unaccounta- 
ble that  no  mention  of  it,  no  occasion  of  even  the  obscurest  allusion 


SABBATICAL    INSTITUTIONS.  215 

io  it,  should  occur,  either  in  the  general  history  of  the  world  before 
the  call  of  Abraham,  which  contains,  we  admit,  only  a  few  me- 
moirs of  its  early  ages,  and  those  extremely  abridged  ;  or,  which  is 
more  to  be  wondered  at,  in  that  of  the  lives  of  the  three  first  Jew- 
ish patriarchs,  which,  in  many  parts  of  the  account,  is  sufficientlj 
circumstantial  and  domestic.  Nor  is  there,  in  the  passage  above 
quoted  from  the  sixteenth  chapter  of  Exodus,  any  intimation  that 
the  sabbath,  then  appointed  to  be  observed,  was  only  the  revival  of 
an  ancient  institution,  which  had  been  neglected,  forgotten,  or  sus- 
pended ;  nor  is  any  such  neglect  imputed  either  to  the  inhabitants 
of  the  old  world,  or  to.  any  part  of  the  family  of  Noah  ;  nor,  lastly, 
is  any  permission  recorded  to  dispense  with  the  institution  during 
the  captivity  of  the  Jews  in  Egypt,  or  on  any  other  public  emer- 
gency. 

The  passage  in  the  second  chapter  of  Genesis,  which  creates  the 
whole  controversy  upon  the  subject,  is  not  inconsistent  with  this 
opinion;  for,  as  the  seventh  day  was  erected  into  a  sabbath,  on  ac- 
count of  God's  resting  upon  that  day  from  the  work  of  the  creation, 
it  was  natural  enough  in  the  historian,  when  he  had  related  the  his- 
tory of  the  creation,  and  of  God's  ceasing  from  it  on  the  seventh 
•lay,  to  add  :  "-And  God  blessed  the  seventh  day,  and  sanctified  it, 
;'  because  that  on  it  he  had  rested  from  all  his  work  which  God 
•'  created  and  made ;"  although  the  blessing  and  sanctification,  i.  e. 
the  religious  distinction  and  appropriation  of  that  day,  was  not  act- 
ually made  till  many  ages  afterwards.  The  words  do  not  assert, 
that  God  then  "blessed"  and ."  sanctified"  the  seventh  day,  but. 
that  he  blessed  and  sanctified  it  for  that  reason  ;  and  if  any  ask. 
why  the  sabbath,  or  sanctification  bf  the  seventh  day,  was  then 
mentioned,  if  it  was  not  then  appointed,  the  answer  is  at  hand;  the 
order  of  connexion,  and  not  of  time,  introduced  the  mention  of  the 
•sabbath,  in  the  history  of  the  subject  which  it  was  ordained  to  com- 
memorate. 

This  interpretation  is  strongly  supported  by  a  passage  in  the  pro- 
phet Ezekiel,  where  the  sabbath  is  plainly  spoken  of  as  given  ;  and 
what  else  can  that  mean,  but  as  first  instituted  in  the  wilderness  ? 
•'  Wherefore  I  caused  them  to  go  forth  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt. 
•'•  and  brought  them  into  the  wilderness;  and  I  gave  them  my  sta- 
•'  tutes  and  shewed  them  my  judgments,  which  if  a  man  do,  he  shall 
•'  even  live  in  them  :  moreover  also  I  gave  them  my  sabbaths,  to  be 
:'a  sign  between  me  and  them,  that  they  might  know  that  I  am 
J' the  Lord  that  sanctify  them."  Ezek.  xx.  10,  11,  12. 

Nehemiah  also  recounts  the  promulgation  of  the  sabbatic  law 
iunongst  the  transactions  in  the  wilderness ;  which  supplies  another 


.'It*  SABBATICAT-.    INSTITUTIONS*-. 

considerable  ai'g-ument  in  aid  of  our  opinion  : — "  Moreover  tiio<v 
"leddest  them  in  the  day  by  a  cloudy  pillar,  and  in  the  night  by  ',< 
"pillar  of  fire,  to  give  them  light  in  the  way  wherein  they  should 
"  go.  Thou  earnest  down  also  upon  mount  Sinai,  and  spakest  with 
••'them  from  heaven,  and  gavest  them  right  judgments  and  true 
vilaws,  good  statutes  and  commandments,  and  modest  known  unto 
"  them  thy  holy  sabbath,  and  commandedst  them  precepts,  statutes. 
"  and  laws,  by  the  hand  of  Moses  thy  servant,  and  gavest  them 
"  bread  from  heaven  for  their  hunger,  and  broughtest  forth  water 
"  for  them  out  of  the  rock."*  Neh.  ix-.  12. 

If  it  be  inquired  what  duties  were  appointed  for  the  Jewish  sab- 
bath, and  under  what  penalties  and  in  what  manner  it  was  observed 
amongst  the  ancient  Jews ;  we  find  that  by  the  fourth  command- 
ment, a  strict  cessation  from  work  was  enjoined,  not  only  upon 
Jews  by  birth,  or  religious  professions,  but  upon  all  who  resided 
within  the  limits  of  the  Jewish  state ;  that  the  same  was  to  be  per- 
mitted to  their  slaves. and  their  cattle;  that  this  rest  was  not'to  be 
violated,  under  pain  of  de;ith  :  "  Whosoever  doeth  any  work  on  the 
"sabbath-day,  he  shall  surely  be  put  to  death."  Exod.  xxxi.  \:>. 
Beside  which,  the  seventh  day  was  to  be  solemnized  by  double  sa- 
crifices in  the  temple  : — "And  on  the  sabbath-day,  two  lambs  ol 
"  the  first  year  without  spot,  and  two  tenth  deals  of  flour  for  a 
';  meat-offering,  mingled  with  oil,  and  the  drink-offering  thereof ; 
'•this  is  the  burnt-offering  of  every  sabbath,  beside  the  .continual 
';  burnt-offering  and  his  drink-offering."  Numb,  xxviii.  9,  10. 
Also  holy  convocations,  or  assemblies  .for  the  purpose,  we  presume, 
of  public  worship  o;-  religious  instruction,  were  directed  to  be  held 
"  on  the  sabbath-day :  "  the  seventh  day  is  a  sabbath  of  rest,  an  ho- 
"ly  convocation."  Levit.  xxiii.  3. 

And  accordingly  we  read,  that  the  sabbath  was  in  fact  observed 
amongst  the  Jews  by  a  scrupulous  abstinence  from  every  thing 
that,  by  any  possible  construction  could  be  deemed  labour;  as  from 
dressing  meat,  from  travelling,  beyond  a  sabbath-day's  jotirney. 
or  about  a  single  mile.  In  the  Maccabean  wars,  they  suffered  a 
thousand  of  their  number  to  be  slain,  rather  than  do  any  thing  in' 

*  For  the  mention  of  the  sabbath  in  so  close  a  connexion  with  the  descent  of 
God  upon  mount  Sinai,  and  the  delivery  of  the  law  from  tlicnco,  one  would  be  in- 
clined to  believe,  that  Nehemiah  referred  solely  to  the  fourth  commandment.  But 
the  fourth  commandment  certainly  did  not  first  make  known  the  sabbath.  And  it 
is  apparent  that  Nehemiah  observed  not  the  order  of  events,  for  he  speaks  of  what 
passed  upon  mount  Sinai  before  he  mentions  the  miraculous  supplies  of  bread  and 
water,  though  the  Jews  did  not  arrive  at  mount  .^iiiai  till  some  time  after 
these  miracles  were  wrought. 


SABBATICAL    INSTITUTIONS.  247 

their  own  defence  on  the  sabbath-day.  In  the  final  siege  of  Jeru- 
salem, after  they  had  so  far  overcome  their  scruples,  as  to  defend 
their  persons  when  attacked,  they  refused  any  operation  on  the 
sabbath-day,  by  which  they  might  have  interrupted  the  enemy  in 
filling  up  the  trench.  After  the  establishment  of  synagogues,  (of 
the  origin  of  which  we  have  no  account,)  it  was  the  custom  to  as- 
semble in  them  upon  the  sabbath-day,  for  the  purpose  of  hearing  the 
law  rehearsed  and  explained,  and  for  the  exercise,  it  is  probable,  of 
public  devotion  :  For,  "  Moses  of  old  time  hath  in  every  city  them 
"  that  preach  him,  being  read  in  the  synagogues  every  sabbath- 
•'  day."  The  seventh  day  is  Saturday ;  and,  agreeably  to  the  Jew- 
ish way  of  computing  the  day,  the  sabbath  held  from  six  o'clock  on 
Friday  evening,  to  six  o'clock  on  Saturday  afternoon. — These  ob- 
servations being  premised,  we  approach  the  main  question,  Whe- 
ther the  command  by  which  the  Jewish  sabbath  was  instituted,  ex- 
tend to  us  ? 

If  the  divine  command  was  actually  delivered  at  the  creation,  it 
was  addressed,  no  doubt,  to  the  whole  human  species  alike,  and 
continues,  unless  repealed  by  some  subsequent  revelation,  binding 
upon  all  who  come  to  the  knowledge  of  it.  If  the  command  was 
published  for  the  first  time  in  the  wilderness,  then  it  was  directed 
to  the  Jewish  people  alone;  and  something  farther,  either  in  the  sub- 
ject or  circumstances  of  the  command,  will  be  necessary  to  show 
that  it  was  designed  for  any  other.  It  is  on  this  account,  that  the 
question  concerning  the  date  of  the  institution  was  first  to  be  con- 
sidered. The  former  opinion  precludes  all  debate  about  the  extent 
of  the  obligation  ;  the  latter  admits,  and,  primafacie,  induces  a  be- 
lief, that  the  sabbath  ought  to  be  considered  as  part  of  the  peculiar 
law  of  the  Jewish  policy. 

Which  belief  receives  great  confirmation  from  the  following  ar- 
guments :  — 

The  sabbath  is  described  as  a  sign  between  God  and  the  people 
of  Israel: — "Wherefore  the  children  of  Israel  shall  keep  the  sab- 
•;  bath,  to  observe  the  sabbath  throughout  their  generations  for  a 
"  perpetual  covenant ;  it  is  a  sign  between  me  and  the  children  of 
•l  Israel  forever."  Exodus,  xxxi.  16,  17.  Again;  "And  I  gave 
>'  them  my  statutes,  and  showed  them  my  judgments,  which  if  a 
•' man  do  he  shall  even  live  in  them;  moreover  also  I  gave  them 
•'  my  sabbaths,  to  be  a  sign  between  me  and  them,  that  they  might 
•'  know  that  I  am  the  Lord  that  sanctify  them."  Ezek.  xx.  12. 
Now  it  does  not  seem  easy  to  understand  how  the  sabbath  could  be 
a  sign  between  God  and  the  people  of  Israel,  unless  the  observ 
ance  of  it  was  peculiar  to  that  people,  and  designed  to  be  so- 
19* 


,'iy  SABBATICAL    INSTITUTIONS. 

The  distinction  of  the  sabbath  is,  in  its  nature,  as  much  a  po&iliv  < 
ceremonial  institution,  as  that  of  many  other  seasons  which  were 
appointed  by  the  Levitical  law  to  be  kept  holy,  and  to  be  observ- 
ed by  a  strict  rest ;  as  the  first  and  seventh  days  of  unleavened 
bread;  fhe  feast  of  Pentecost:  the  feast  of  Tabernacles;  and  in 
the  twenty-third  chapter  of  Exodus,  the  sabbath  and  these  are  re- 
cited together. 

If  the  command  by  which  the  sabbath  was  instituted,  be  binding 
upon  Christians,  it  must  bind  as  to  the  day,  the  duties,  and  the  pen- 
alty ;  in  none  of  which  it  is  received. 

The  observation  of  the  sabbath  was  not  one  of  the  articles  en- 
joined by  the  apostles,  in  the  fifteenth  chapter  of  Acts,  upon  them- 
"which  from  among  the  Gentiles  were. turned  unto  God." 

St.  Paul  evidently  appears  to  have  considered  the  sabbath  ai- 
part  of  the  Jewish  ritual,  not  binding  upon   Christians  as  such:- 
"Let  no  man  therefore  judge  you  in  meat  or  in  drink,  or  in  re- 
Aspect  of  an  holy  day,  or  of  the  new  moon,  or  of  the  sabbalh-dayt. 
'l  which  are  a  shadow  of  things  to  coinc,  but  the  body  is  of  Christ.' 
Col.  ii.  16,  17. 

I  am  aware  of  only  two  objections  which  can  be  opposed  to  the 
force  of  these  arguments :  one  is,  that  the  reason  assigned  in  tho 
fourth  commandment  for  hallowing  the  seventh  day,  namely,  "  be- 
cause God  rested  on  the  seventh  day  from  the  work  of  the  cre- 
"  ation,"  is  a  reason  which  pertains  to  all  mankind;  the  other, 
that  the  command  which  enjoins  the  observation  of  the  sabbath  is- 
inserted  in  the  Decalogue,  of  which  all  the  other  precepts  and  pro 
hibitions  are  of  moral  and  universal  obligation. 

Upon  the  first  objection  it  may  be  remarked,  that  although  in 
Exodus  the  commandment  is  founded  upon  God's  rest  from  the 
creation,  in  Deuteronomy  the  commandment  is  repeated  with  a  re- 
ference to  a  different  event :  "  Six  days  shalt  thou  labour,  and  do,. 
"  all  thy  work  :  but  the  seventh  day  is  the  sabbath  of  the  Lord  thy 
c;  God  ;  in  it  thou  shalt  not  do  any  work ;  thou  nor  thy  son,  nor 
';thy  daughter,  nor  thy  man-servant,  nor  thy  maid-servant^  nor 
''•thine  ox,  nor  thine  ass,  nor  any  of  thy  cattle,  nor  thy  stranger 
"that  is  within  thy  gates  ;  that  thy  man-servant  and  thy  maid-ser- 
"  vant  may  rest,  as  well  as  thou.:  and  remember  that  thou  wast  n. 
c:  servant  in  the  land  of  Egypt,  and  that  the  Lord  thy  God  brought 
c:thee  out  thence,  through  a  mighty  hand,  and  by  a  stretched  out 
c;  arm  ;  therefore  the  Lord  thy  God  commanded  thee  to  keep  the 
'•'•  sabbath-day."  It  is  farther  observable,  that  God's  rest  from  the 
creation  is  proposed  as  the  reason  of  the  institution,  even  where 
the  institution  itself  is  spoken  of  as  peculiar  to  the  Jews  :  "  Where 


SABBATICAL   INSTITUTIONS.  -I' 

"  lore  the  children  of  Israel  shall  keep  the  sabbath,  to  observe  the 
"  sabbath  throughout  their  generations,  for  a  perpetual  covenant 
"it  is  a  sign  between  me  and  the  children  of  Israel  forever;  for 
"  in  six  days  the  Lord  made  heaven  and  earth,  and  on  the  seventh 
''day  he  rested  and  was  refreshe .;."  The  truth  is,  these  different 
reasons  were  assigned,  to  account  tor  different  circumstances  in  the 
command.  If  a  Jew  inquired,  why  the  seventh  flay  was  sanctified 
rather  than  the  sixth  or  eighth  ?  his  law  told  him,  because  God 
rested  on  the  seventh  day  from  the  creation.  If  he  asked,  whj 
was  the  same  rest  indulged  to  glares?  his  law  bade  him  remember 
that  he  also  was  a  slave  in  the  land  of  Egypt,  and  "  that  the  Lord 
"  his  God  brought  him  out  thence."  In  this  view,  the  two  reason? 
are  perfectly  compatible  with  each  other,  and  with  a  third  end  ol 
the  institution,  its  being  a  sign  between  God  and  the  people  of  Is- 
rael ;  but  in  this  view  they  determine  nothing  concerning  the  ex 
ient  of  the  obligation.  If  the  reason  by  its  proper  energy  had  con- 
stituted a  natural  obligation,  or  if  it  had  been  mentioned  with  a 
view  to  the  extent  of  the  obligation,  we  should  submit  to  the  conclu- 
sion, that  all  were  comprehended  by  the  command  who  are  con- 
cerned in  the  reason.  But  the  sabbatic  rest  being  a  duty  which  re- 
sults from  the  ordination  and  authority  of  a  positive  law,  the  rea- 
«on  can  be  alleged  no  farther  than  as  it  explains  the  design  of  the 
legislator;  and  if  it  appear  to  be  recited  with  an  intentional  appli- 
cation to  one  part  of  the  law,  it  cun  explain  his  design  upon  no 
other. 

With  respect  to,  the  second  objection,  that  inasmuch  as  the  other 
nine  commandments  are  confessedly  of  moral  and  universal  obliga- 
tion, it  may  reasonably  be  presumed  that  this  is  of  the  same  ;  we 
•answer,  that  this  argument  will  have  little  weight,  when  it  ie  con- 
sidered that  the  distinction  between  positive  and  natural  duties, 
like  other  distinctions  of  modern  ethics,  was  unknown  to  the  sim- 
plicity of  ancient  language  ;  and  that  there  are  various  passages  in 
Scripture,  in  which  duties  of  a  political,  or.  ceremonial,  or  positive 
nature,  and  confessedly  of  partial  obligation,  are  enumerated,  and 
without  any  mark  of  discrimination,  along  with  others  which  arc 
natural  and  universal.  Of  this  the  following  is  an  incontestable 
example  :  "  But  if  a  man  be  just,  and.  do  that  which  is  lawful  and 
" right;  and  hath  not  eaten  upon  (he  mountains,  nor  hath  lift  up  his 
"  eyes  to  the.idols  of  the  house  of  Israel :  neither  hath  defiled  his 
"neighbour's  wife,  neither  hath  come  near  to  a  mcnstruous  wo~ 
'-'•man  ;  and  hath  not  oppressed  any,  but  hath  restored  to  the  debt- 
;!or  his  pledge;  hath  spoiled  none  by  violence;  hath  given  his 
:  bread  to  the  hungry,  and  hath  covered  the  naked  with  a  garment. 


220  SABBATICAL    INSTITUTIONS. 

-he  that  hath  not  given  upon  usury,  neither  hath  taken  any  m 
•-crease;  that  hath  withdrawn  his  hand  from  iniquity  ;  hath  execu- 
ted true  judgment  between  man  and  man;  hath  walked  in  my 
-'  statutes,  and  hath  kept  my  judgments,  to  deal  truly  ;  he  is  just. 
-'  he  shall  surely  live,  saith  the  Lord  God."     Ezekiel,  xviii.  5, 
The  same  thing  may  be  observed  of  the  apostolic  decree  recorded 
the  fifteenth  chapter  of  the  Acts:—"  It  seemed  good  to  the  I 
-'  Ghost,  and  to  us,  to  lay  upon  you  no  greater  burthen  than  these 
-  necessary  tilings,  that  ye  abstain  from  meats  offered  to  idols,  and 
"  from  blood,  and  from  things  strangled,  and  from  fornication 
«  from  which  if  ye  keep  yourselves,  ye  shall  do  well." 

II.  If  the  law  by  which  the  sabbath  was  instituted  was  a  law 
ly  to'  the  Jews,  it  becomes  an  important  question  with  the  Chris- 
tian inquirer,   Whether  the  founder  of  his  religion  delivered  any 
new  command  upon  the  subject?  or,  if  that  should  not  appear  to  1 
the  case,  whether  any  day  was  appropriated  to  the  service  of  reli- 
«-ion  by  the  authority  or  example  of  his  apostles  ? 
°  The  practice  of  holding  religious  assemblies  upon  the  first  day  of 
the  week,  was  so  early  and  universal  in  the  Christian  Church,  that 
it  carries  with  it  considerable  proof  of  having  originated  from  some 
precept  of  Christ,  or  of  his  apostles,  thougli  none  such  be  now  ex- 
tant.    It  was  upon  the  first  day  of  the  week  that  the  disciples  were 
assembled,  when  Christ  appeared  to  them  for  the  first  time  after  his 
resurrection  ;  «  then  the  same  day  at  evening,  being  the  first  day 
K  of  the  week,  when  the  doors  were  shut  where  the  disciples  were 
•'assembled,  for  fear  of  the  Jews,  came  Jesus,  and  stood  in  the 
•'  midst  of  them."     John,  xx.  19.     This,  for  any  thing  that  appears 
in  the  account,  might,  as  to  the  day,  have  been  accidental;  but  in 
the  "6th  verse  of  the  same  chapter  we  read,  "  that  after  eight  days," 
that  is,  on  the  first  day  of  the  week  following,  "  again  the  disci- 
ples were  within;"  which  second  meeting  upon  the  same  day  of 
the  week  looks  like  an  appointment  and"  design  to  meet  on  that 
particular  day.     In  the  twentienth  chapter  of  the  Acts  of  the  apos- 
lies  we  find  the  same  custom  in  a  Christian  Church  at  a  great  dis- 
tance from  Jerusalem:-"  And  we  came  unto  them  to  Troas  in 
five  days,  where  we  abode  seven  days  ;  and  upon  the  first  day  of 
•'the  week,  u'hen  the  disciples  came  together  to  break  bread,  Paul 
»  preached  unto  them."  Acts,  xx.  6,  7.    The  manner  m  which  the 
historian  mentions  the  disciples  coming  together  to  break  bread  on 
the   first  day  of  the  week,  shows,  I  think,  that  the  practice  by  this 
time f  was  familiar  and  established.     St.  Paul  to  the  Corinthians 
writes  thus  :  •<  Concerning  the  collection  for  the  saints,  as  I  liav. 
given  order  to  the  Churches  of  Galatia,  even  so  do  ye  ;  upon  the 


SABBATICAL    INSTITUTIONS.  221 

'•jlrst  day  of  the  week  let  every  one  of  you  lay  by  him  in  store  as 
"God  hath  prospered  him,  that  there  be  no  gatherings  when  1 
"come."  1  Cor.  xvi.  1,2.  Which  direction  affords  a  probable 
proof,  that  \hefirst  day 'of  the  week  was  already,  amongst  the 
Christians  both  of  Corinth  and  Galatia,  distinguished  from  the  res) 
by  some  religious  application  or  other.  At  the  time  that  St.  John 
wrote  the  book  of  his  Revelation,  the  first  day  of  the  week  had 
obtained  the  name  of  the  Lord's  Day; — "I  was  in  the  spirit11 
(says  he)  "on  the  Lord's  Day."  Rev  i.  10,  Which  name,  and 
St.  John's  use  of  it,  sufficiently  denote  the  appropriation  of  this 
day  to  the  service  of  religion,  and  that  this  appropriation  was  per- 
fectly known  to  the  Churches  of  Asia.  I  make  no  doubt  but  thai 
by  the  Lord's  Day  was  meant  the  jirst  day  of  the  week ;  for,  we 
find  no  footsteps  of  any  distinction  of  da^s,  which  could  entitle  any 
other  to  that  appellation.  The  subsequent  history  of  Christianity 
corresponds  with  the  accounts  delivered  on  this  subject  in  Scrip- 
ture. 

It  will  be  remembered,  that  we  are  contending,  by  these  proofs? 
for  no  other  duty  upon  the  first  day  of  the  week,  than  that  of  hold- 
ing and  frequenting  religious  assemblies.  A  cessation  upon  that 
day  from  labour,  beyond  the  time  of  attendance  upon  public  wor- 
ship, is  not  intimated  in  any  passage  of  the  New  Testament;  nor 
did  Christ  or  his  apostles  deliver,  that  we  know  of,  any  command 
to  their  disciples  fora  discontinuance,  upon  that  day,  of  the  com- 
mon offices  of  their  professions  :  a  reserve  whk-h  none  will  see  rea- 
son to  wonder  at,  or  to  blame  as  a  defect  in  the  institution,  who 
consider  that,  in  the  primitive  condition  of  Christianity,  the  ob- 
servation of  a  new  sabbath  would  have  been  useless,  or  inconve- 
nient, or  impracticable.  During  Christ's  personal  ministry,  his  re- 
ligion was  preached  to  the  Jews  alone.  They  already  had  a  sab- 
bath, which,  as  citizens  and  subjects  of  that'  economy,  they  were 
obliged  to  keep,  and  did  keep.  It  was  not  therefore  probable  that 
Christ  would  enjoin  another  day  of  rest  in  conjunction  with  this. 
When  the  new  religion  came  forth  into  the  Gentile  world,  converts 
to  it  were  for  the  most  part,  made  from  those  classes  of  society 
who  have  not  their  time  and  labour  at  their  own  disposal ;  and  if 
was  scarcely  to  be  expected,  that  unbelieving  masters  and  magis- 
trates, and  they  who  directed  the  employment  of  others,  would 
permit  their  slaves  and  labourers  to  rest  from  their  work  every 
seventh  day  ;  or  that  civil  goverment,  indeed,  would  have  submit 
ted  to  the  loss  of  a  seventh  part  of  the  public  industry,  and  thai 
too  in  .addition  to  the  numerous  festivals  which  the  national  reli- 
gions indulged  to  the  people  ;  at  least,  this  would  have  been  an  en- 


22.2  CHRISTIAN   SABBATH. 

cumbrance,  which  might  have  greatly  retarded,  the  receptiou  of 
Christianity  in  the  world.  In  reality,  the  institution  of  a  weekly 
sabbath  is  so  connected  with  the  functions  of  civil  life,  and  re- 
quires so  much  of  the  concurrence  of  civil  law,  in  its  regulation 
and  support,  that  it  cannot,  perhaps,  properly  be  made  the  ordi 
nance  of  any  religion,  till  that  religion  be  received  as  the  religion 
of  the  state.  "• 

The  opinion  that  Christ  and  his  Apostles  meant  to  retain  the  du- 
ties of  the  Jewish  sabbath,  shifting  only  the  day  from  the  seventh 
to  the  first,  seems  to  prevail  without  sufficient  proof;  nor  does  any 
evidence  remain  in  Scripture,  (of  what,  however,  is  not  improb- 
able,) that  the  first  day  of  the  week  was  thus  distinguished  in  com- 
memoration of  our  Lord's  resurrection. 

The  conclusion  from  the  whole  inquiry,  (for  it  is  our  business  to 
follow  the  arguments  to  whatever  probability  they  conduct  us,)  is 
this:  The  assembling  upon  the  first  day  of  the  week  for  the  pur- 
pose of  public  worship  and  religious  instruction,  is  a  law  of  Chris- 
tianity, of  divine  appointment ;  the  resting,  on  that  day  from  our 
employments  longer  than  we  are  detained  from  them  by  attend- 
ance upon  these  assemblies,  is  to  Christians  an  ordinance  of  human 
institution ;  binding  nevertheless  upon  the  conscience  of  every  in- 
dividual of  a  country  in  which  a  weekly  sabbath  is  established,  for 
the  sake  of  the  beneficial  purposes  which  the  public  and  regu- 
lar observation  of  it  promotes,  and  recommended  perhaps  in  some 
degree  to  the  divine  approbation,  by  the  resemblance  it  bears  to 
what  God  was  pleased  to  make  a  solemn  part  of  the  law  which  he 
Delivered  to  the  people  of  Israel,  and  by  its  subserviency  to  many 
of  the  same  uses. 


CHAPTER    VHZ. 

-i\    \VHAT  ACTS  AND  OMISSIONS  THE  DUTY  OF   THE  CHRISTIAN 
SABBATH  IS  VIOLATED. 

SINCE  the  obligation  upon  Christians  to  comply  with  the  religious 
observation  of  Sunday,  arises  from  the  public  uses  of  the  institu- 
tion and  the  authority  of  the  apostolic  practice,  the  manner  of  ob- 
serving it  ought  to  be  that  which  best  fulfils  these  uses,  and  con- 
forms the  nearest  to  this  practice. 

The  uses  proposed  by  the  institution  are: — 

1.  To  facilitate  attendence  upon  public  worship. 

2.  To  meliorate  the  condition  of  the  laborious  classes  of  man- 
kind, by  regular  and  seasonable  returns  of  rest. 


CHRISTIAN   SABBATH. 

3.  By  a  general  suspension  of  business  and  amusement,  to  invite 
imd  enable  persons  of  every  description  to  apply  their  time  am! 
thoughts  to  subjects  appertaining1  to  their  salvation. 

With  the  primitive  Christians,  the  peculiar,  and  probably  for 
some  time  the  only,  distinction  of  the  first  day  of  the  week,  was  the 
holding1  of  religious  assemblies  upon  that  day.  We  learn,  howe- 
ver, from  the  testimony  of  a  very  early  writer  amongst  them,  that 
they  also  reserved  the  day  for  religious  meditations  : — Unusquis- 
fjue  nostrum  (saith  Irenceus)  -sabbatizat  spiritual  iter,  meditation' 
tegis  gaudens,  opificium  Dei  admirans. 

WHEREFORE  the  duty  of  the  day  is  violated, 
1st,  By  all  such  employments  or  engagements  as  (though  differ- 
ing1 from  our  ordinary  occupation)  hinder  our  attendance  upon  pub- 
lic worship,  or  take  up  so  much  of  our  time  as  not  to  leave  a  suffi- 
cient part  of  the  day  at  leisure  for  religious  reflection  ;  as  the  go- 
ing of  journies,  the  paying  or  receiving  of  visits  which  engage  the 
whole  day  ;  or  employing  the  time  at  home  in  writing  letters,  set- 
tling accounts,  or  in  applying  ourselves  to  studies,  or  the  reading 
of  books,  which  bear  no  relation  to  the  business  of  religion. 

*2dly,  By  unnecessary  encroachments  upon  the  rest  and  liberty 
which  Sunday  ought  to  bring  to  the  inferior  orders  of  the  commu- 
nity as  by  keeping  servants  on  that  day  confined  and.busied  in  pre- 
parations for  the  superfluous  elegancies  of  our  table,  or  dress. 

3dly,  By  such  recreations  as  are  customarily  forborne  out  of  re- 
spect to  the  day  ;  as  hunting,  shooting,  fishing,  public  diversions, 
frequenting  taverns,  playing  at  cards,  or  dice. 

If  it  be  asked,  as  it  often  has  been,  wherein  consists  the  diffe- 
rence between  walking  out  with  your  stick,  or  with  your  gun  ?  be- 
tween spending  the  evening  at  home,  or  in  a  tavern  ?  between 
passing  the  Sunday  afternoon  at  a  game  of  cards,  or  in  conversa- 
tion not  more  edifying,  nor  always  so  inoffensive  ? — To  these,  and 
to  the  same  question  under  a  variety  of  forms,  and  in  a  multitude 
r>f  similar  examples,  we  return  the  following  answer  : — That  the 
religious  observation  of  Sunday,  if  it  ought  to  be  retained  at  all, 
must  be  upheld  by  some  public  and  visible  distinctions  :  That,  draw 
the  line  of  distinction  where  you  will,  many  actions  which  are  situ- 
ated on  the  confines  of  the  line,  will  differ  very  little  and  yet  lie  on 
opposite  sides  of  it :  That  every  trespass  upon  that  reserve  which 
public  decency  has  established,  breaks  down  the  fence  by  which 
the  day  is  separated  to  the  service  of  religion  :  That  it  is  unsafe  to 
trifle  with  scruples  and  habits  that  have  a  beneficial  tendency,  al- 
though founded  merely  in  custom  :  That  these  liberties,  however 
ntcnded,  will  certainly  be  considered  by  those  who  observe  them. 


-24  REVERENCING   THE   DEITi". 

not  only  as  disrespectful  :  o  the  day  and  institution,  but  as  proceeding 
from  a  secret  contempt  of  the  Christian  faith  :  That,  consequently, 
they  diminish  a  reverence  for  religion  in  others,  so  far  as  the  au- 
thority of  our  opinion,  or  the  efficacy  of  our  example  reaches ;  01 
rather,  so  far  as  either  mil  serve  for  an  excuse  of  negligence  to 
those  who  are  glad  of  any :  That  as  to  cards  and  dice',  which  put 
in  their  claim  to  be  considered  amongst  the  harmless  occupations 
of  a  vacant  hour,  it  may  be  observed,  that  few  find  any  difficulty 
in  refraining  from  play  on  Sunday,  except  they  who  sit  down  to  it 
with  the  views  and  eagerness  of  gamesters :  That  gaming  is  seldom 
innocent:  That  the  anxiety  and  perturbations,  however,  which  if. 
excites,  are  inconsistent  with  the  tranquillity  and  frame  of  tempev 
in  which  the  duties  and  thoughts  of  religion  should  always  both  find 
and  leave  us :  And,  lastly,  we  shall  remark,  that  the  example  ot 
other  countries,  where  the  same  or  greater  license  is  allotved,  af- 
fords no  apology  for  irregularities  in  our  own  ;  because  a  practice 
which  is  tolerated  by  public  order  and  usagCj  neither  receives  the 
same  construction,  nor  gives  the  same  offence,  as  where  it  is  cen- 
sured and  prohibited  by  both. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

OF  REVERENCING  THE  DEITY. 

Lv  many  persons,  a  seriousness,  and  sense  of  awe,  overspread 
•he  imagination  whenever  the  idea  of  the  Supreme  Being  is  pre- 
sented to  their  thoughts.  This  effect,  which  forms  a  considerable 
security  against  .vice,  is  the  consequence,  not  so  much  of  reflec- 
tion, as  of  habit ;  which  habit  being  generated  by  the  external  ex- 
pressions of  reverence  which  we  use  ourselves,  and  observe  in  those 
about  us,  may  be  destroyed  by  causes  opposite  to  these,  and  espe- 
cially by  that  familiar  levity  with  which  some  learn  to  speak  of  the 
Deity,  of  his  attributes,  providence,  revelations,  or  worship. 

God  hath  been  pleased  (no  matter  for  what  reason,  although 
probably  for  this,)  to  forbid  the  vain  mention  of  his  name :  "  Thou 
u  shalt  not  take  the  name  of  the  Lord  thy  God  in  vain.''  Now  the 
mention  is  vain,  when  it  is  useless ;  and  it  is  useless,  when  it  is 
neither  likely  nor  intended  to  serve  any  good  purpose  ;  as,  wlien  it 
flows  from  the  lips  idle  or  unmeaning,  or  is  applied  upon  occasions 
inconsistent  with  any  consideration  of  religion  or  devotion,  to  ex- 
press our  anger,  our  earnestness,  our  courage,  or  our  mirth;  or. 


REVERENCING    THE   DEITY.  22i> 

>fl<ieed,  when  it  is  used  at  all,  except  in  acts  of  religion,  or  in  seri- 
ous and  seasonable  discourse  upon  religious  subjects. 

The  prohibition  of  the  third  commandment  is  recognized  by 
Christ,  in  his  sermon  upon  the  Mount ;  which  sermon  adverts  to 
none  but  the  moral  parts  of  the  Jewish  law :  "•  I  say  unto  you, 
•'  Swear  not  at  all ;  but  let  your  communication  be  yea,  yea ;  nay 
':  nay:  for,  whatsoever  is  more  than  these,  cometh  of  evil."  The 
Jews  probably  interpreted  the  prohibition  as  restrained  to  the  name 
JEHOFAH,  the  name  which  the  Deity  had  appointed  and  appropri- 
ated to  himself,  Exod.  vi.  3.  The  words  of  Christ,  extend  the  pro- 
hibition beyond  the  name  of  God,  to  every  thing  associated  with 
the  idea ;  "  Swear  not,  neither  by  heaven,  for  it  is  God's  throne  ; 
"  nor  by  earth,  for  it  is  his  footstool  ;  neither  by  Jerusalem,  for  it 
"'  is  the  city  of  the  great  King.'1  Matt.  v.  35. 

The  offence  of  profane  swearing  is  aggravated  by  the  considera- 
tion, that  duty  and  decency  are  sacrificed  thereby  to  the  slenderest 
of  temptations.  Suppose  the  habit,  either  from  affectation  or  by 
negligence  and  inadvertency,  to  be  already  formed,  it  costs,  one 
would  think,  little  to  relinquish  the  pleasure  and  honour  which  if 
confers ;  and  it  must  always  be  within  the  power  of  the  most  ordi- 
nary resolution  to  correct  it.  Zeal,  and  a  concern  for  duty,  are, 
in  fact,  never  strong,  when  the  exertion  requisite  to  vanquish  a 
habit,  founded  in  no  antecedent  propensity,  is  thought  too  much  or 
(.00  painful. 

A  contempt  of  positive  duties,  or  rather  of  those  duties  for  which 
the  reason  is  not  so  plain  as  the  command,  indicates  a  disposition 
upon  which  the  authority  of  revelation  has  obtained  little  influence. 
This  remark  is  applicable  to  the  offence  of  profane  swearing,  and 
describes,  perhaps,  pretty  exactly,  the  general  character  of  those 
who  are  most  addicted  to  it. 

Mockery  and  ridicule,  when  exercised  upon  the  Scriptures,  or 
-even  upon  the  places,  persons,  and  forms  set  apart  for  the  ministra- 
tion of  religion,  fall  within  the  mischief  of  the  law  which  forbids 
the  profanation  of  God's  name  ;  especially  as  it  is  extended  b\ 
Christ's  interpretation.  They  are  moreover  inconsistent  with  a 
religious  frame  of  mind  ;  for,  as  no  one  ever  feels  himself  either 
disposed  to  pleasantry,  or  capable  of  being  diverted  wifli  the  plea 
santry  of  others,  upon  matters  in  which  he  is  cordially  interested ; 
so  a  mind  intent  upon  the  entertainment  of  heaven,  rejects  with 
indignation  every  attempt  to  entertain  it  with  jests,  calculated  to 
degrade  or  deride  subjects,  which  it  never  recollects,  but  with  se- 
riousness and  anxiety.  Nothing  but  stupidity,  or  the  most  frivo- 
lous dissipation  of  thought,  can  make  even  the  inconsiderate  forget 
20 


228  KEVEREtfCING   THE 

the  supreme  importance  of  every  thing  which  relates  to  the  expec 
tation  of  a  future  existence.  Whilst  the  infidel  mocks  at  the  su- 
perstitions of  the  vulgar,  insults  over  their  credulous  fears,  their 
childish  errors,  and  fantastic  rites,  it  does  not  occur  to  him  to  ob- 
serve, that  the  most  preposterous  device  by  which  the  weakest  de- 
votee ever  believed  he  was  securing  .the  happiness  of  a  future  life, 
is  more  rational  than  unconcern  about  it.  Upon  this  subject,  potli- 
ing  is  so  absurd  as  indifference ; — no  folly  so  contemptible,  as 
thoughtlessness  and  levity. 

Finally,  the  knowledge  of  what  is  due  to  the  solemnity  of  those 
interests,  concerning  which  revelation  professes  to  inform  and  di- 
rect us,  may  teach  even  those  who  are  least  inclined  to  respect  the 
prejudices  of  mankind,  to  observe  a  decorum  in  the  style  and  con- 
duct of  religious  disquisitions,  with  the  neglect  of  which  many  ad- 
versaries of  Christianity  are  justly  chargeable.  Serious  arguments 
are  fair  on  all  sides.  Christianity  is  but  ill  defended  by  refusing- 
audience  or  toleration  to  the  objections  of  unbelievers.  But  whilst 
we  would  have  freedom  of  inquiry  restrained  by  no  laws,  but  those 
of  decency,  we  are  entitled  to  demand,  on  behalf  of  a  religion  which 
holds  forth  to  mankind  assurances  of  immortality,  that  its  credit  be 
assailed  by  no  other  weapons  than  those  of  sober  discussion  and 
legitimate  reasoning : — that  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  Christianity 
be  never  made  a  topic  of  raillery,  a  theme  for  the  exercise  of  wit 
or  eloquence,  or  a  subject  of  contention  for  literary  fame  and  vic- 
tory:— that  the  cause  be  tried  upon  its  merits  : — that  all  applica- 
tions to  the  fancy,  passions,  or  prejudices  of  the  reader,  all  attempts 
to  preoccupy,  ensnare,  or  perplex  his  judgment,  by  any  art,  influ- 
ence, or  impression  whatsoever,  extrinsic  to  (he  proper  grounds 
and  evidence  upon  which  his  assent  ought  to  proceed,  be  rejected 
from  a  question,  which  involves  in  its  determination  the  hopes,  the 
virtue,  and  repose  of  millions  : — that  the  controversy  be  managed 
on  both  sides  with  sincerity ;  that  is,  that  nothing  be  produced,  in 
the  writings  of  either,  contrary  to,  or  beyond  the  writer's  own 
knowledge  and  persuasion : — that  objections  and  difficulties  be  pro- 
posed, from  no  other  motive  than  an  honest  and  serious  desire  to 
obtain  satisfaction  or  to  communicate  information  which  may  pro- 
mote the  discovery  and  progress  of  truth: — that  in  conformity  with 
this  design,  every  thing  be  stated  with  integrity,  with  method,  pre- 
cision, and  simplicity  ;  and,  above  all,  that  whatever  is  published 
in  opposition  to  received  and  confessedly  beneficial  persuasions,  be 
set  forth  under  a  form  which  is  likely  to  invite  inquiry,  and  to  meet 
examination.  If  with  these  moderate  and  equitable  conditions  be 
compared  the  manner  in  which  hostilities  have  been  waged  against 


REVERENCING    THE   DEITV. 

the  Christian  religion,  not  only  the  votaries  of  the  prevailing  faith. 
but  every  man  who  looks  forward  with  anxiety  to  the  destination  of 
his  being,  will  see  much  to  blame  and  to  complain  of.  By  one  un- 
believer, all  the  follies  which  have  adhered,  in  a  long  course  of 
dark  superstitious  ages  to  the  popu'ar  creed,  are  assumed  as  so 
many  doctrines  of  Christ  and  his  Apostles,  for  the  purpose  of  sub- 
verting the  whole  system  by  the  absurdities  which  it  is  thus  repre- 
sented0 to  contain.  By  another,  the  ignorance  and  vices  of  the  sa- 
cerdotal order,  their  mutual  dissensions  and  persecutions,  their 
usurpations  and  encroachments  upon  the  intellectual  liberty  and 
civil  rights  of  mankind,  have  been  displayed  with  no  small  triumph 
and  invective ;  not  so  much  to  guard  the  Christian  laity  against  a 
repetition  of  the  same  injuries  (which  is  the  only  proper  use  to  be 
made  of  the  most  flagrant  examples  of  the  past,)  as  to  prepare  the 
way  for  an  insinuation,  that  the  religion  itself  is  nothing  else  than 
a  profitable  fable,  imposed  upon  the  fears  and  credulity  of  the  mul- 
titude, and  upheld  by  the  frauds  and  influence  of  an  interested  and 
crafty  priesthood.  And  yet,  how  remotely  is  the  character  of  the 
clergy  connected  with  the  truth  of  Christianity  !  What,  after  all,  do 
the  most  disgraceful  pages  of  ecclesiastical  history  prove,  but  that 
the  passions  of  our  common  nature  are  not  altered  or  excluded  by 
distinctions  of  name,  and  that  the  characters  of  men  are  formed 
much  more  by  the  temptations  than  the  duties  of  their  professions  ? 
— A  third  finds  delight  in  collecting  and  repeating  accounts  of  wars 
and  massacres,  of  tumults  and  insurrections,  excited  in  almost  eve- 
ry age  of  the  Christian  aera  by  religious  zeal ;  as  though  the  vices 
of  Christians  were  parts  of  Christianity ;  intolerance  and  extirpa- 
tion precepts  of  the  Gospel;  or  as  if  its  spirit  could  be  judged  of 
from  the  counsels  of  princes,  the  intrigues  of  statesmen,  the  pre- 
tences of  malice  and  ambition,  or  the  unauthorized  cruelties  of 
some  gloomy  and  virulent  superstition. — By  a  fourth,  the  succes- 
sion and  variety  of  popular  religions  ;  the  vicissitudes  with  which 
sects  and  tenets  have  flourished  and  decayed ;  the  zeal  with  which 
they  were  once  supported,  the  negligence  with  which  they  are  now 
remembered :  the  little  share  which  reason  and  argument  appear  to 
have  had  in  framing  the  creed,  or  regulating  the  religious  conduct  or 
the  multitude ;  the  indifference  and  submission  with  which  the  reli- 
gion of  the  state  is  generally  received  by  the  common  people ;  the 
caprice  and  vehemence  with  which  it  is  sometimes  opposed ;  the 
phrenzy  with  which  men  have  been  brought  to  contend  for  opinions 
and  ceremonies,  of  which  they  knew  neither  the  proof,  the  meaning, 
nor  original ;  lastly,  the  equal  and  undoubting  confidence  with 
which  we  hear  the  doctrines  of  Christ  or  of  Confucius,  the  law  of 


REVERENCING   THE   DEITV. 

Moses  or  of  Mahomet,  the  Bible,  the  Koran,  or  the  Shasler,  main 
tained,  or  anathematized,  taught  or  abjured,  revered  or  derided, 
according  as  we  live  on  this  or  on  that  side  of  a  river ;  keep  with- 
in or  step  over  the  boundaries  of  a  state ;  or  even  in  the  same  coun- 
try, and  by  the  same  people,  so  often  as  the  event  of  a  battle,  or 
the  issue  of  a  neg-ociation,  delivers  them  to  the  dominion  of  a  new 
master ;  points,  I  say,  of  this  sort,  are  exhibited  to  the  public  at- 
tention, as  so  many  arguments  against  the  truth  of  the  Christian 
religion ; — and  with  success.  For  these  topics  being  brought  to- 
gether, and  set  off  with  some  aggravation  of  circumstances  and 
with  a  vivacity  of  style  and  description  familiar  enough  to  the  wri- 
tings and  conversation  of  free-thinkers,  insensibly  lead  the  imagina- 
tion into  a  habit  of  classing  Christianity  with  the  delusions  that 
have  taken  possession,  by  turns,  of  the  public  belief;  and  of  re- 
garding it,  as  what  the  scoffers  of  our  faith  represent  it  to  be,  the 
superstition  of  the  day.  But  is  this  to  deal  honestly  by  the  subject, 
or  with  the  world  ?  May  not  the  same  things  be  said,  may  not  the 
same  prejudices  be  excited  by  these  representations,  whether  Chris- 
tianity be  true  or  false,  or  by  whatever  proofs  iis  truth  be  attested  'i 
May  not  truth  as  well  as  falsehood  be  taken  upon  credit  ?  May  not 
religion  be  founded  upon  evidence  accessible  and  satisfactory  to 
every  mind  competent  to  the  inquiry,  which  yet,  by  the  greatest 
part  of  its  professors,  is  received  upon  authority  ? 

But  if  the  matter  of  these  objections  be  reprehensible,  as  calcu- 
lated to  produce  an  effect  upon  the  reader   beyond  what  their  real 
weight  and  place  in  the  argument  deserve,  still  more  shall  we  dis- 
cover of  management  anddisingenuousness  in  the  form  under  which 
they  are  dispersed  among  the  public.     Infidelity  is  served  up  in 
every  shape  that  is  likely  to  allure,  surprise,  er  beguile  the  imagina- 
tion ;  in  a  fable,  a  tale,  a  novel,  a  poem ;  in  interspersed  and  bro- 
ken hints;  remote  and  oblique  surmises;  in  books  of  travels,  oi 
philosophy,  of  natural  history ;  in  a  word,  in  any  form  rather  than 
the  right  one,  that  of  a  professed  and  regular  disquisition.     And  be- 
cause the  coarse  buffoonery,  and  broad  laugh,  of  the  old  and  rude 
adversaries  of  the  Christian  faith  would  offend  the  taste,  perhaps, 
•ather  than  the  virtue,  of  this  cultivated  age,  a  graver  irony,  a 
more  skilful  and  delicate  banter  is  substituted  in  their  place.     An 
eloquent  historian,  besides  his  more  direct,  and  therefore  fairer,  at- 
tacks upon  the  credibility  of  the  Evangelic  story,  has  contrived  to 
weave  into  his  narration  one  continued  sneer  upon  the  cause  oi 
Christianity,  and  upon  the  writings  and  characters  of  its  ancient 
patrons..     The  knowledge  which  this  author  possesses  of  the  frame 
and  conduct  of  the  human  mind,  must  have  led  him  to  observe 


THE  DEITY.  229 

tbat  such  attacks  do  their  executiou  without  inquiry.  Who  can 
refute  a  sneer?  Who  can  compute  the  number,  much  less  one  by 
one,  scrutinize  the  justice  of  those  disparaging  insinuations,  which 
crowd  the  pages  of  this  elaborate  history?  What  reader  suspends 
la's  curiosity,  or  calls  off  his  attention  from  the  principal  narrative, 
to  examine  references,  to  search  into  the  foundation,  or  to  weigh 
the  reason,  propriety,  and  force  of  every  transient  sarcasm,  and 
sly  allusion,  by  which  the  Christian  testimony  is  depreciated  and 
traduced ;  and  by  which,  nevertheless,  he  may  find  his  faith  after- 
wards  unsettled  and  perplexed  ? 

But  the  enemies  of  Christianity  have  pursued  her  with  poisoned 
arrows.  Obscenity  itself  is  made  the  vehicle  of  infidelity.  The 
awful  doctrines,  if  we.  be  not  permitted  to  call  them  the  sacred 
truths  of  our  religion,  together  with  all  the  adjuncts  and  appenda- 
ges of  its  worship  and  external  profession,  have  been  sometimes 
impudently  profaned  by  an  unnatural  conjunction  with  impure  and 
lascivious  images.  The  fondness  for  ridicule  is  almost  universal  r 
and  ridicule  to  many  minds  is  never  so  irresistible,  as  when  season- 
ed with  obscenity,  and  employed  upon  religion.  But  in  propor- 
tion as  these  noxious  principles  take  hold  of  the  imagination,  they 
infatuate  the  judgment :  for,  trains  of  ludicrous  and  unchaste  as- 
sociations adhering-  to  every  sentiment  and  mention  of  religion, 
render  the  mind  indisposed  to  receive  either  conviction  from  its 
evidence,  or  impressions  from  its  authority.  And  this  effect  being 
exerted  upon  the  sensitive  part  of  our  frame,  is  altogether  indepen- 
dent of  argument,  proof,  or  reason ;  is  as  formidable  to  a  true  re- 
ligion, as  to  a  false  one;  to  a  well  grounded  faith,  as  to  a  chimeri- 
cal mythology,  or  fabulous  tradition.  Neither,  let  it  be  observed, 
is  the  crime  or  danger  less,  because  impure  ideas  are  exhibited  un- 
der a  veil,  in  covert  and  chastised  language. 

Seriousness  is  not  constraint  of  thought ;  nor  levity,  freedom. 
Every  mind  which  wishes  the  advancement  of  truth  and  knowledge 
in  the  most  important  of  all  human  researches,  must  abhor  this  li- 
centiousness, as  violating  no  less  the  laws  of  reasoning,  than  the 
rights  of  decency.  There  is  but  one  description  of  men  to  whose 
principles  it  ought  to  be  tolerable ;  I  mean  that  class  of  reasoners 
who  can  see  little  in  Christianity,  even  supposing  it  to  be  true. 
To  such  adversaries  we  address  this  reflection  : — Had  Jesus  Christ 
delivered  no  other  declaration  than  the  following :  "  The  hour  is 
;*  coming,  in  which  all  that  are  in  the  grave  shall  hear  his  voice, 
;i  and  shall  come  forth ;  they  that  have  done  good  unto  the  resur- 
•'  rection  of  life,  and  they  that  have  done  evil  unto  the  resurrection 
uof  damnation;"  he  had  pronounced  a  message  of  inestimable im- 
20* 


230  REVERENCING    THE   DEITY. 

portance,  and  well  worthy  of  that  splendid  apparatus  of  -prophecj 
and  miracles  with  which  his  mission  was  introduced  and  attested  . 
a  message  in  which  the  wisest  of  mankind  would  rejoice  to  find  an 
answer  to  their  doubts,  and  rest  to  their  inquiries.  It  is  idle  to  say. 
that  a  future  state  had  been  discovered  already ;  it  had  been  dis- 
covered as  the  Copernican  system  was, — it  was  one  guess  among 
many.  He  alone  discovers  who  proves ;  and  no  man  can  prove 
this  point,  but  the  teacher  who  testifies  by  miracles  that  his  doc- 
trine comes  from  God. 


BOOK  VI. 


ELEMENTS  OF  POLITICAL  KNOWLEDGE 


CHAPTER  X. 

OF  THE  ORIGIN  OF  CIVIL  GOVERNMENT, 

GOVERNMENT,  at  first,  was  either  patriarchal  or  military ;  thai 
of  a  parent  over  his  family,  or  of  a  commander  over  his  fellow- 
warriors. 

I.  Paternal  authority,  and  the  order  of  domestic  life,  supplied 
ihe  foundation  of  civil  government.  Did  mankind  spring  out  of  the 
earth  mature  and  independent,  it  would  be  found,  perhaps,  impos- 
sible to  introduce  subjection  and  subordination  among  them  ;  but 
ihe  condition  of  human  infancy  prepares  men  for  society,  by  com- 
bining individuals  into  small  communities,  and  by  placing  jthenv 
from  the  beginning  under  direction  and  control.  A  family  con- 
tains the  rudiments  of  an  empire.  The  authority  of  one  over  ma- 
ny, and  the  disposition  to  govern  and  to  be  governed  are  in  this 
way  incidental  to  the  very  nature,  and  coeval,  no  doubt,  with  the 
existence  of  the  human  species. 

Moreover,  the  constitution  of  families  not  only  assists  the  form 
ation  of  civil  goverment,  by  the  dispositions  which  it  generates, 
but  also  furnishes  the  first  steps  of  the  process  by  which  empires 
have  been  actually  reared.  A  parent  would  retain  a  considerable 
part  of  his  authority  after  his  children  were  grown  up,  and  had 
formed  families  of  their  own.  'The  obedience,  of  which  they  re- 
membered not  the  beginning,  would  be  considered  as  natural ;  and 
would  scarcely,  during  the  parent's  life,  be  entirely  or  abruptly 
withdrawn.  Here,  then,  we  see  the  second  stage  in  the  progress- 
of  dominion.  The  first  was,  that  of  a  parent  over  his  young  chil- 
dren; this,  that  of  an  ancestor  presiding  over  his  adult  decendants. 
Although  the  original  progenitor  was  the  centre  of  union  to  his 
posterity,  yet  it  is  not  probable  that  the  association  would  be  imme  • 


232  ORIGIN  of 

diately  or  altogether  dissolved  by  his  death.  Connected  by  habits 
of  intercourse  and  affection,  and  by  some  common  rights,  necessi- 
ties and  interests,  they  would  consider  themselves  as  allied  to  each 
other  in  a  nearer  degree  than  to  the  rest  of  the  species.  Almost 
all  would  be  sensible  of  an  inclination  to  continue  in  the  society  in 
which  they  had  been  brought  up ;  and  experiencing,  as  they  soon 
would  do,  many  inconveniences  from  the  absence  of  that  author- 
ity which  their  common  ancestor  exercised,  especially  in  deciding 
their  disputes,  and  directing  their  operations  in  matters  in  which  it 
was  necessary  to  act  in  conjunction,  they  might  be  induced  to  sup- 
ply his  place  by  a  formal  choice  of  a  successor :  or  rather,  might 
willingly,  and  almost  imperceptibly,  transfer  their  obedience  to 
some  one  of  the  family,  who  by  his  age  or  services,  or  by  the  part 
he  possessed  in  the  direction  of  their  affairs  during  the  lifetime  oi 
the  parent,  had  already  taught  them  to  respect  his  advice,  or  to  at- 
tend to  his  commands  ;  or,  lastly,  the  prospect  of  these  inconve- 
niences might  prompt  the  first  ancestor  to  appoint  a  successor  ;  and 
his  posterity,  from  the  same  motive,  united  with  an  habitual  defe- 
rence to  his  authority,  might  receive  the  appointment  with  submis- 
sion. Here  then  we  have  a  tribe  or  clan  incorporated  under  one 
chief.  Such  communities  might  be  increased  by  considerable 
numbers,  and  fulfil  the  purposes  of  civil  union  without  any  other 
or  more  regular  convention,  constitution,  or  form  of  government 
than  what  we  have  described.  Every  branch  which  was  slipped  off 
from  the  primitive  stock,  and  removed  to  a  distance  from  it,  would 
in  like  manner  take  root,  and  grow  into  a  separate  clan.  Two  or 
three  of  these  clans  were  frequently,  we  may  suppose,  united  into 
one.  Marriage,  conquest,  mutual  defence,  common  distress,  or 
more  accidental  coalitions,  might  produce  this  effect.  . 

II.  A  second  source  of  personal  authority,  and  which  might  easi- 
ly extend,  or  sometimes  perhaps  supersede  the  patriarchal,  is  that 
which  results  from  military  arrangement.  In  wars,  either  of  ag- 
gression or  defence,  manifest  necessity  would  prompt  those  who 
fought  on  the  same  side  to  array  themselves  under  one  leader.  And 
although  their  leader  was  advanced  to  this  eminence  for  the  pur- 
pose only,  and  during  the  operations  of  a  single  expedition,  yet 
his  authority  would  not  alwajrs  terminate  with  the  reasons  for 
which  it  was  conferred.  A  warrior  who  had  led  forth  his  tribe 
against  their  enemies  with  repeated  success,  would  procure  to  him- 
self, even  in  the  deliberations  of  peace,  a  powerful  and  permanent 
influence.  If  this  advantage  were  added  to  the  authority  of  the 
patriarchal  chief,  or  favoured  by  any  previous  distinction  of  an- 
cestry, it  would  be  ao  difficult  undertaking  for  the  person  who.pos- 


CIVII-   GOVERNMENT.  233 

scssed  it  to  obtain  the  almost  absolute  direction  of  the  affairs  of  the 
community ;  especially  if  he  was  careful  to  associate  to  himself 
proper  auxiliaries,  and  content  to  practise  the  obvious  art  of  gra- 
tifying or  removing  those  who  opposed  his  pretensions. 

But  although  we  may  be  able  to  comprehend  how  by  his  person- 
al abilities  or  fortune  one  man  may  obtain  the  rule  over  many,  yet 
it  seems  more  difficult  to  explain  how  empire  became  hereditary, 
or  in  what  manner  sovereign  power,  which  is  never  acquired  with- 
out great  merit  or  management,  learns  to  descend  in  a  succession 
which  has  no  dependence  upon  any  qualities  either  of  understand- 
ing or  activity.     The  causes  which  have  introduced  hereditary  do- 
minion into  so  general  a  reception  in  the  world  are  principally  the 
following  : — the  influence  of  association,   which  communicates  to 
the  son  a  portion  of  the  same  respect  which  was  wont  to  be  paid 
to  the  virtues  or  station  of  the  father  ;  the  mutual  jealousy  of  oth- 
er competitors ;  the  greater  envy  with  which  all  behold  the  exal- 
tation of  an  equal,  than  the  continuance  of  an  acknowledged  supe- 
riority ;  a  reigning  prince  leaves  behind  him   many   adherents, 
who  can   preserve   their  own   importance  only  by  supporting  the 
succession  of  his  children  ;  add  to  these  reasons,  that  elections  to 
the  supreme  power  having  upon  some  occasions,  produced  the  most 
destructive  contentions,  many  states  would  take  refuge  from  a  re- 
turn of  the  same  calamities  in  a  rule  of  succession;  and  no  rule 
presents  itself  so  obvious,  certain,  and  intelligible,  as  consanguin- 
ity of  birth. 

The  ancient  state  of  society  in  most  countries,  and  the  modern 
condition  of  some  uncivilized  parts  of  the  world,  exhibit  that  ap- 
pearance which  this  account  of  th«  original  of  civil  government 
would  lead  us  to  expect.  The  earliest  histories  of  Palestine,  Greece, 
Italy,  Gaul,  Britain,  informs  us,  that  these  countries  were  occupi- 
ed by  many  small  independent  nations,  not  much,  perhaps  unlike 
those  which  are  found  at  present  amongst  the  savage  inhabitants  of 
North  America,  and  upon  the  coast  of  Africa.  These  nations  1 
consider  as  the  amplifications  of  so  many  single  families ;  or  as  deri- 
ved from  the  junction  of  two  or  three  families,  whom  society  in  war, 
or  the  approach  of  common  danger,  had  united.  Suppose  a  coun- 
try to  have  been  first  peopled  by  some  shipwreck  on  its  coasts,  or 
by  emigrants  or  exiles  from  some  neighbouring  country  ;  the  new 
settlers,  having  no  enemy  to  provide  against,  and  occupied  witli 
the  care  of  their  personal  subsistence,  would  think  little  of  diges- 
ting a  system  of  laws,  of  contriving  a  form  of  government,  or  indeed 
of  any  political  union  whatever ;  but  each  settler  would  remain  at 
the  head  of  his  own  family,  and  each  family  would  include  all  of  eve- 


234  SUBJECTION   TO 

ry  age  and  generation  who  were  descended  from  him.  So  many  of 
these  families  as  were  holden  together  after  the  death  of  the  origi- 
nal ancestor,  by  the  reasons  and  in  the  method  above  recited  would 
wax  as  the  individuals  were  multiplied,  into  tribes,  clans,  hordes  or 
nations,  similar  to  those  into  which  the  ancient  inhabitants  of  many 
countries  are  known  to  have  been  divided;  and  which  are  still 
found  wherever  the  state  of  society  and  manners  is  immature  and 
uncultivated. 

Nor  need  we  be  surprised  at  the  early  existence  in  the  world  of 
some  vast  empires,  or  at  the  rapidity  with  which  they  advanced  to 
their  greatness,  from  comparitively  small  and  obscure  originals. 
Whilst  the  inhabitants  of  so-many  countries  were  broken  into  nu- 
merous communities,  unconnected,  and  oftentimes  contending 
with  each  other  ;  before  experience  had  taught  these  little  states  to 
see  their  own  danger  in  their  neighbour's  ruin ;  or  had  instructed 
them  in  the  neccesity  of  resisting  the  aggrandizement  of  an  aspi- 
ring power,  by  alliances,  and  timely  preparation  ;  in  this  condition 
of  civil  policy,  a  particular  tribe,  who  by  any  means  had  got  the 
siart  of  the  rest  in  strength  Cr  discipline,  and  happened  to  fall  un- 
der the  conduct  of  an  ambitious  chief,  by  directing  their  first  at- 
tempts to  the  part  where  success  was  most  secure,  and  by  assuming, 
as  they  went  along,  those  whom  they  conquered  into  a  share  of 
their  future  enterprises,  might  soon  gather  a  force  which  would  in- 
fallibly overbear  any  opposition  that  the  divided  power  and  unpro- 
vided state  of  such  enemies  could  make  to  the  progress  of  their 
victories. 

Lastly,  Our  theory  affords  a  presumption,  that  the  earliest  govern- 
ments were  monarchies,  because  the  government  of  families,  and  of 
armies,  from  which,  according  to  our  account,  civil  goverment  de- 
rived its  institution,  and  probably  its  form,  is  universally  mo- 
narchical, 


CHAPTER  II- 

HOW  SUBJECTION  TO  CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  IS  MAINTAINED. 
COULD  we  view  our  own  species  from  a  distance,  and  regard 
mankind  with  the  same  sort  of  observation  with  which  we  read  the 
natural  history,  or  remark  the  manners  of  any  other  animal,  there 
is  nothing  in  the  human  character  which  would  more  surprise  us 
than  the  almost  universal  subjugation  of  strength  to  weakness 
to  see  many  millions,  perhaps  of  robust  men,  in  the  complete  use 
and  exercise  of  their  personal  faculties,  and  without  any  defect  ol 


CIVIL    GOVERNMENT.  -35 

courage,  waiting  upon  the  will  of  a  child,  a  woman,  a  driveller,  or 
a  lunatic.  And  although,  when  we  suppose  a  vast  empire  in  abso- 
lute subjection  to  one  person,  and  that  one  depressed  beneath  the 
level  of  his  species  by  infirmities  or  vice,  we  suppose  perhaps  an 
extreme  case :  yet  in  all  cases,  even  in  the  most  popular  forms  of 
civil  government,  the  physical  strength  resides  in  the  governed.  In 
what  manner  opinion  thus  prevails  over  strength,  or  how  power, 
which  naturally  belongs  to  superior  force,  is  maintained  in  opposi- 
tion to  it ;  in  other  words,  by  what  motives  the  many  are  induced 
to  submit  to  the  few,  becomes  an  inquiry  which  lies  at  the  root  of  al- 
most every  political  speculation.  It  removes,  indeed,  but  does  not 
resolve  the  difficulty  to  say,  that  civil  governments  are  now-a-days 
almost  universally  upheld  by  standing  armies  ;  for,  the  question 
still  returns,  How  are  these  armies  themselves  kept  in  subjection, 
or  made  to  obey  the  directions,  and  carry  on  the  designs,  of  the 
prince  or  state  which  employs  them. 

Now,  although  we  should  look  in  vain  for  any  single  reason 
which  will  account  for  the  general  submission  of  mankind  to  civil 
government ;  yet  it  may  not  be  difficult  to  assign  for  every  class 
and  character  in  the  community,  considerations  powerful  enough 
to  dissuade  each  from  any  attempts  to  resist  established  authority. 
Every  man  has  his  motive,  though  not  the  same.  In  this,  as  in 
other  instances,  the  conduct  is  similar,  but  the  principles  which 
produce  it  extremely  Various. 

There  are.three  principal  distinctions  of  character  into  which  the 
subjects  of  a  state  may  be  divided  ;  into  those  who  obey  from  pre- 
judice ;  those  who  obey  from  reason  ;  and  those  who  obey  from  self* 
interest. 

1.  They  who  obey  from  prejudice,  are  determined  by  an  opinion 
of  right,  in  their  governors ;  which  opinion  is  founded  upon  pre- 
scription. In  .monarchies  and  aristocracies  which  are  hereditary, 
the  prescription  operates  in  favour  of  particular  families  ;  in  repu- 
blics and  elective  offices,  in  favour  of  particular  forms  of  govern- 
ment, or  constitutions.  Nor  is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  that  mankind 
should  reverence  authority  founded  in  prescription,  when  they  ob- 
serve that  it  is  prescription  which  confers  a  title  to  almost  every 
thing  else.  The  whole  course  and  all  the  habits  of  civil  life,  favour 
this  prejudice.  Upon  what  other  foundation  stands  any  man's 
right  to  his  estate  ?  The  right  of  primogeniture,  the  succession  of 
kindred,  the  descent  of  property,  the  inheritance  of  honours,  the 
demand  of  tithes,  tolls,  rents,  or  services  from  the  estates  of  others, 
the  right  of  way,  the  powers  of  office  and  magistracy,  the  privileges 
of  nobility,  the  immunities  of  the  clergy,  upon  what  are  they  all 


'236  SUBJECTION    TO 

founded,  in  the  apprehension  at  least  of  the  multitude,  but  opei? 
prescription  ?     To  what  else,  when  the  claims  are  contested,  is  the 
appeal  made  ?     It  is  natural  to  transfer  the  same  principle  to  the 
affairs  of  government,  and  to  regard  those  exertions  of  power, 
which  have  been  long  exercised  and  acquiesced  in,  as  so  many 
rights  in  the  sovereign  :  and  to  consider  obedience  to  his  com- 
mands, within  certain  accustomed  limits,  as  enjoined  by  that  rule 
of  conscience,  which  requires  us  to  render  to  every  man  his  due. 
In  hereditary  monarchies,  the  prescriptive  title  is  corroborated 
and  its  influence  considerably  augmented,  by  an  accession  of  reli- 
gious sentiments,  and  by  that  sacredness  which  men  are  wont  to 
ascribe  to  the  persons  of  princes.     Princes  themselves  have  not 
failed  to  take  advantage  of  this  disposition,  by  claiming  a  superior 
dignity,  as  it  were,  of  nature,  or  a  peculiar  delegation  from  the 
Supreme  Being.    For  this  purpose  were  introduced  the  titles  of  sa- 
cred majesty  of  God's  anointed,  representative,  vicegerent,  toge- 
ther with  the  ceremonies  of  investitures  and  coronations,  which  are 
calculated  not  so  much  to  recognize  the  authority  of  sovereigns,  as 
to  consecrate  their  persons.     Where  a  fabulous  religion  permitted 
it,  the  public  veneration  has  been  challenged  by  bolder  preten- 
sions.    The  Roman  emperors  usurped  the  titles  and  arrogated  the 
worship  of  gods.     The  mythology  of  the  heroic  ages,  and  of  many 
barbarous  nations,  was  easily  converted  to  this   purpose.     Some 
princes,  like  the  heroes  of  Homer,  and  the  founder  of  the  Roman 
name,  derived  their  birth  from  the  gods  ;  others,  with-  Numa,  pre- 
tended a  secret  but  supernatural  communication  with  some  divine 
being  ;  and  others,  again,  like  the  Incas  of  Peru,  and  the  ancient 
Saxon  kings,  extracted  their  descent  from  the  deities  of  their  coun- 
try.    The  Lama  of  Thibet,  at  this  day,  is  held  forth  to  his  subjects, 
not  as  the  offspring  or  successor  of  a  divine  race  of  princes,  but  as 
the  immortal  God  himself,  the  object  at  once  of  civil  obedience  and 
religious  adoration.     This   instance  is  singular,  and  may  be  ac- 
counted the  furthest  point  to  which  the  abuse  of  human  credulity 
has  ever  been  carried.     But  in  all  these  instances  the  purpose  was 
the  same, — to  engage  the  reverence  of  mankind,  by  an  application 
to  their  religious  principles. 

The  reader  will  be  careful  to  observe,  that  in  this  article  we  de- 
nominate every  opinion  a,  prejudice,  which,  whether  true  or  false,  is 
not  founded  upon  argument,  in  the  mind  of  the  person  who  enter- 
tains it. 

II.  They  who  obey  from  reason,  that  is  to  say,  from  conscience. 
as  instructed  by  reasonings  and  conclusions  of  their  own,  are  de- 
termined by  the  consideration  of  the  necessity  of  some  government 


CIVIT.    GOVERNMENT.  237 

&r  other ;  the  certain  mischief  of  civil  commotions ;  and  the  danger 
of  re-settling-  the  government  of  their  country  better,  or  at  all,  if 
once  subverted  or  disturbed.  i 

III.  They  who  obey  from  self -interest,  are  kept  in  order  by  want 
of  leisure ;  by  a  succession  of  private  cares,  pleasures,  and  engage- 
ments ;  by  contentment,  or  a  sense  of  ease,  plenty,  and  safety  which 
they  enjoy  ;  or,  lastly,  and  principally,  by  fear,  foreseeing  that  they 
would  bring  themselves  by  resistance  into  a  worse  situation  than 
their  present,  inasmuch  as  the  strength  of  government,  each  discon- 
tented subject  reflects,  is  greater  than  his  own,  and  he  knows  not 
that  others  would  join  him. 

This  last  consideration,  has  often  been  called  opinion  of  power,' 
This  account  of  the  principles  by  which  mankind  are  retained  in 
their  -obedience  to  civil  government,  may  suggest  the  following 
cautions  ; — 

1.  Let  civil  governors  learn  from  hence  to  respect  their  subjects ; 
let  them  be  admonished,  that  the  physical  strength  resides  in  the 
governed  ;  that  this  strength  wants  only  to  be  felt  and  roused,  to  lay 
prostrate  the  most  ancient  and  confirmed  dominion  ;  that  civil  au- 
thority is  founded  in  opinion  ;  that  general  opinion  therefore  ought 
always  to  be  treated  with  deference,  and  managed  with  delicacy 
and  circumspection, 

2.  Opinion  of  right,  always  following  the  custom,  being  for  the 
most  part  founded  in  nothing  else,  and  lending  one  principal  sup- 
port to  government,  every  innovation  in  the  constitution,  or,  in 
other  words,  in  the  custom  of  governing,  diminishes  the  stability  of 
government.     Hence  some  absurdities  are  to  be  retained,  and  ma- 
ny small  inconveniences  endured  in  every  country,  rather  than  that 
the  usage  should  be  violated,  or  the  course  of  public  affairs  diverted 
from  their  old  and  smooth  channel.    Even  names  are  not  indiffe- 
rent.    When  the  multitude  are  to  be  dealt  with,  there  is  a  charm 
in  sounds.     It  was  upon  this  principle,  that  several  statesmen  of 
those  times,  advised  Cromwell  to  assume  the  title  of  king,  together 
with  the  ancient  style  and  insignia  of  royalty.     The  minds  of  many, 
they  contended,  would  be  brought  to  acquiesce  in  the  authority  of  a 
King,  who  suspected  the  office,  and  were  offended  with  the  adminis- 
tration of  a  Protector.    Novelty  reminded  them  of  usurpation.   The 
adversaries  of  this  design  opposed  the  measure,  from  the  same  per- 
suasion of  the  efficacy  of  names  and  forms,  jealous  lest  the  venera- 
tion paid  to  these,  should  add  an  influence  to  the  new  settlement, 
which  might  ensnare  the  liberty  of  the  commonwealth. 

3.  Government  may  be  too  secure.     The  greatest  tyrants  have 
been  those,  whose  titles  were  the  most  unquestioned.     Whenever 

21 


238  SUBJECTION   TO   CIVIL   GOVERNMENT. 

therefore  the  opinion  of  right  becomes  too  predominant  and  super 
stitious,  it  is  abated  by  breaking  the  custom.  Thus  the  Revolution 
broke  the  custom  of  succession,  and  thereby  moderated,  both  in  the 
prince  and  in  the  people,  those  lofty  notions  of  hereditary  right 
which  in  the  one  were  become  a  continual  temptation  to  tyranny, 
and  disposed  the  other  to  invite  servitude,  by  undue  compliances 
and  dangerous  concessions. 

4.  As  ignorance  of  union,  and  want  of  communication,  appear 
amongst  the  principal  preservatives  of  civil  authority,  it  behooves 
every  state  to  keep  its  subjects  in  this  want  and  ignorance,  not  on- 
ly by  vigilance  in  guarding  against  actual  confederacies  and  com- 
binations, but  by  a  timely  care  to  prevent  great  collections  of  men 
of  any  separate  party  or  religion-,  or  of  like  occupation  or  profes- 
sion, or  in  any  way  connected  by  a  participation  of  interest  or  pas- 
sion, from  settling  in  the  same  vicinity.  A  Protestant  establish- 
ment in  this  country  may  have  little  to  fear  from  its  Popish  subjects. 
scattered  as  they  are  throughout  the  kingdom,  and  intermixed  with 
the  Protestant  inhabitants,  which  yet  might  think  them  a  formida- 
ble body,  if  they  were  gathered  together  into  one  county.  The 
most  frequent  and  desperate  riots  are  those  which  break  out  amongst 
men  of  the  same  profession,  as  weavers,  miners,  sailors.  This  cir- 
cumstance makes  a  mutiny  of  soldiers  more  to  be  dreaded  than  any 
other  insurrection.  Hence  also  one  danger  of  an  overgrown  me- 
tropolis, and  of  those  great  cities  and  crowded  districts,  into  which 
the  inhabitants  of  trading  countries  are  commonly  collected.  The 
worst  effect  of  popular  tumults  consists  in  this,  that  they  discover 
to  the  insurgents  the  secret  of  their  own  strength,  teach  them  to  de- 
pend upon  it  against  a  future  occasion,  and  both  produce  and  dif- 
fuse sentiments  of  confidence  in  one  another,  and  assurances  ol 
mutual  support.  Leagues  thus  formed  and  strengthened,  may  over- 
awe or  overset  the  power  of  any  state ;  and  the  danger  is  greater, 
in  proportion  as,  from  the  propinquity  of  habitation  and  intercourse 
of  employment,  the  passions  and  counsels  of  a  party  can  be  circu- 
lated with  ease  and  rapidity.  It  is  by  these  means,  and  in  such  sit- 
uations, that  the  minds  of  men  are  so  affected  and  prepared,  that 
the  most  dreadful  .uproars  often  arise  from  the  slightest  provoca- 
tions. When  the  train  is  laid,  a  spark  will  produce  the  explosion. 


OF    SUBMISSION.  239 

CHAPTER   m. 

THE  DUTY  OF  SUBMISSION  TO  CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  EXPLAINED. 

THE  subject  of  this  chapter  is  sufficiently  distinguished  from  the 
subject  of  the-last,  as  the  motives  which  actually  produce  civil  6be- 
dience  may  be,  aud  often  are,  very  different  from  the  reasons  which 
make  that  obedience  a  duty. 

In  order  to  prove  civil  obedience  to  be  a  moral  duty,  and  an 
obligation  upon  the  conscience  of  the  subject,  it  hath  been  usual 
with  many  political  writers,  (at  the  head  of  whom  we  find  the  vene- 
rable name  of  Locke,  j  to  state  a  compact  between  the  citizen  and 
the  state,  as  the  ground  and  cause  of  the  relation  between  them  ; 
which  compact,  binding  the  parties  for  the  same  general  reason 
that  private  contracts  do,  resolves  the  duty  of  submission  to  civil 
government  into  the  universal  obligation  of  fidelity  in  the  perform- 
ance of  promises.  This  compact  is  two-fold  : — 

First,  An  express  compact  by  the  primitive  founders  of  the  state, 
who  are  supposed  to  have  convened  for  the  declared  purpose  of  set- 
tling the  terms  of  their  political  union,  and  a  future  constitution  of 
government.  The  whole  body  is  supposed,  in  the  first  place,  to 
have  unanimously  consented  to  be  bound  by  the  resolutions  of  the 
majority;  that  majority,  in  the  next  place,  to  have  fixed  certain  fun- 
damental regulations,  and  then  to  have  constituted  either  in  one 
person,  or  in  an  assembly,  (the  rule  of  succession  or  appointment 
being  at  the  same  time  determined,)  a  standing  legislature,  to 
whom,  under  these  pre-established  restrictions,  the  government  of 
the  state  was  thenceforward  committed,  and  whose  laws  the  several 
members  of  the  convention  were,  by  their  first  undertaking,  thus 
personally  engaged  to  obey. — This  transaction  is  sometimes  called 
social  compact,  and  these  supposed  original  regulations  compose 
what  are  meant  by  the  constitution,  the  fundamental  laws  of  the 
constitution  ;  and  form,  on  one  side,  the  inherent,  indefeasible  pre- 
rogative of  the  crown  ;  and,  on  the  other,  the  unalienable  birth- 
right of  the  subject. 

Secondly,  A  'tacit  or  implied  compact,  by  all  succeeding  mem- 
bers of  the'  state,  who,  by  accepting  its  protection,  consent  to  be 
bound  by  its  laws  :  in  like  manner  as,  whoever  voluntarily  enters 
into  a  private  society  is  understood,  without  any  other  or  more  ex- 
plicit stipulation,  to  promise  a  conformity  with  the  rules,  and  obe- 
dience to  the  government  of  that  society,  as  the  known  conditions 
upon  which  he  is  admitted  to  a  participation  of  its  privileges. 

This  account  of  the  subject,  although  specious,  and  patronized 


240  OP  SUBMISSION. 

by  names  the  most  respectable,  appears  to  labour  under  the  follow 
ing  objections  :  that  it  is  founded  upon  a  supposition  false  in  fact- 
and  leading  to  dangerous  conclusions. 

No  social  compact,  similar  to  what  is  here  described,  was  evei 
made  or  entered  into  in  reality ;  no  such  original  convention  of  the 
people  was  ever  actually  held,  or  in  any  country  could  be  held,  an- 
tecedent to  the  existence  of  civil  government  in  that  country.  It 
is  to  suppose  it  possible  to  call  savages  out  of  caves  and  deserts. 
to  deliberate  and  vote  upon  topics,  which  the  experience,  and  stu- 
dies, and  refinements  of  civil  life  alone  suggest.  Therefore  no 
government  in  the  universe  began  from  this  original.  Some  imita- 
tion of  a  social  compact  may  have  taken  place  at  a  revolution. 
The  present  age  has  been  witness  to  a  transaction,  which  bears  the 
nearest  resemblance  to  this  political  idea  of  any  of  which  history 
has  preserved  the  account  or  memory ;  1  refer  to  the  establishment 
of  the  United  States  of  North  America.  We  saw  the  people  as- 
sembled to  elect  deputies,  for  the  avowed  purpose  of  framing  the 
constitution  of  a  new  empire.  We  saw  this  deputation  of  the  peo- 
ple deliberating  and  resolving  upon  a  form  of  government,  erect- 
ing a  permanent  legislature,  distributing  the  functions  of  sove- 
reignty, establishing  and  promulgating  a  code  of  fundamental  ordi- 
nances, which  were  to  be  considered  by  "succeeding  generations, 
not  merely  as  laws  and  acts  of  the  state,  but  as  the  very  terms  and 
conditions  of  the  confederation ;  as  binding  not  only  upon  the  sub- 
jects and  magistrates  of  the  state,  but  as  limitations  of  power  which 
were  to  control  and  regulate  the  future  legislature.  Yet  even 
here  much  was  presupposed.  In  settling  the  constitution,  many 
important  parts  were  presumed  to  be  already  settled.  The  quali- 
fications of  the  constituents  who  were  admitted  to  vote  in  the  elec- 
tion of  members  of  congress,  as  well  as  the  mode  of  electing  the' 
representatives,  were  taken  from  the  old  forms  of  government. 
That  was  wanting,  from  which  every  social  union  should  set  off', 
and  which  alone  makes  the  resolution  of  the  society  the  act  of  the 
individual, — the  unconstrained  consent  of  all  to  be  bound  by  the 
decision  of  the  majority  ;  and  yet,  without  this  previous  consent, 
the  revolt,  and  the  regulations  which  followed  it,  were  compulsory 
upon  dissentients. 

But  the  original  compact,  we  are  told,  is  not  proposed  as  a  fact* 
but  as  a  fiction,  which  furnishes  a  commodious  explication  of  the 
mutual  rights  and  duties  of  sovereigns  and  subjects.  In  answer  to 
this  representation  of  the  matter,  we  observe,  that  the  original 
compact,  if  it  be  not  a  fact,  is  nothing  ;  can  confer  no  actual  au- 
thority upon  laws  or  magistrates;  nor  afford  any  foundation  to 


OF   SUBMISSION.  241 

rights,  which  are  supposed  to-be  real  and  existing.  But  the  truth 
is,  that  in  the  books,  and  in  the  apprehension,  of  those  who  deduce 
our  civil  rights  and  obligations  a  pactis,  the  original  convention  is 
appealed  to  and  treated  of  as  reality.  Whenever  the  disciples  of 
this  system  speak  of  the  constitution  ;  of  the  fundamental  articles 
of  the  constitution ;  of  laws  being  constitutional  or  unconstitution- 
al ;  of  inherent,  unalienable,  inextinguishable  rights,  either  in  the 
prince,*  or  the  people ;  or  indeed  of  any  laws,  usages,  or  civil 
rights,  as  transcending  the  authority  of  the  subsisting  legislature, 
or  possessing  a  force  and  sanction  superior  to  what  belong  to  the 
modern  acts  and  edicts  of  the  legislature,  they  secretly  refer  us  to 
what  passed  at  the  original  convention.  They  would  teach  us  to 
believe,  that  certain  rules  and  ordinances  were  established  by  the 
people,  at  the  same  time  that  they  settled  the  charter  of  govern- 
ment, and  the  powers  as  well  as  the  form  of  the  future  legislature ; 
which  legislature  consequently,  deriving  its  commission  and  exis- 
tence from  the  consent  and  act  of  the  primitive  assembly,  (of  which 
indeed  it  is  only  the  standing  deputation,)  continues  subject,  in  the 
exercise  of  its  offices,  and  as  to  the  extent  of  its'  power,  to  the 
rules,  reservations,  and  limitations  which  the  same  assembly  then 
made  and  prescribed  to  it. 

"  As  the  first  members  of  the  state  were  bound  by  express  stipu- 
"  lation  to  obey  the  government  which  they  had  erected ;  so  the  suc- 
"  ceeding  inhabitants  of  the  same  country  are  understood  to  prom- 
"  ise  allegiance  to  the.  constitution  and  government  they  find  esta- 
"blished,  by  accepting  its  protection,  claiming  its  privileges,  and 
"  acquiescing  in  its  laws  ;  more  especially,  by  the  purchase  or  in- 
"heritance  of  lands,  to  the  possession  of  which,  allegiance  to  the 
-*'  state  is  annexed,  as  the  very  service  and  condition  of  the  te- 
"  nure."  Smoothly  as  this  train  of  argument  proceeds,  little  of  it 
will  endure  examination.  The  native  subjects  of  modern  states 
are  not  conscious  of  any  stipulation  with  their  sovereigns,  of  ever 
exercising  an  election  whether  they  will  be  bound  or  not  by  the 
acts  of  the  legislature,  of  any  alternative  being  proposed  to  their 
choice,  of  a  promise  either  required  or  given  ;  nor  do  they  appre- 
hend that  the  validity  or  authority  of  the  laws  depends  at  all  upon 
their  recognition  or  consent.  In-  all  stipulations,  whether  they  be 
expressed  or  implied,  private  or  public,  formal  or  constructive,  the 
parties  stipulating  must  both  possess  the  liberty  of  assent  and  refu- 
sal, and  also  be  conscious  of  this  liberty :  which  cannot  with  truth 
be  affirmed  of  the  subjects  of  civil  government,  as  government  is 
now  or  ever  was,  actually  administered.  This  is  a  defect,  which 
no  arguments  can  excuse  or  supply  :  all  presumptions  of  consent 
21* 


242  OF    SUBMISSION. 

without  this  consciousness,  or  in  opposition  to  it,  are  vain  and  er- 
roneous. Still  less  is  it  possible  to  reconcile  with  any  idea  of  stip- 
ulation the  practice,  in  which  all  European  nations  agree,  of  found- 
ing1 allegiance  upon  the  circumstance  of  nativity,  that  is,  of  claim- 
ing' and  treating  as  subjects  all  those  who  are  born  within  the  con- 
fines of  their  dominions,  although  removed  to  another  country  in 
their  youth  or  infancy.  In  this  instance,  certainly,  the  state  does 
not  presume  a  compact.  Also,  if  the  subject  be  bound  onlji  by  his 
own  consent,  and  if  the  voluntary  abiding  in  a  country  be  the  proof 
and  intimation  of  that  consent,  by  what  arguments  shall  we  defend 
the  right,  which  sovereigns  universally  assume,  of  prohibiting, 
when  they  please,  the  departure  of  their  subjects  out  of  the  realm? 

Again,  when  it  is  contended  that  the  taking  and  holding  posses- 
sion of  land  amounts  to  an  acknowledgment  of  the  sovereign,  and 
a  virtual  promise  of  allegiance  to  his  laws,  it  is  necessary  to  the  va- 
lidity of  the  argument  to  prove,  that  the  inhabitants,  who  first 
composed  and  constituted  the  state,  collectively  possessed  a  right 
to  the  soil  of  the  country  ;  a  right  to  parcel  it  out  to  whom  they 
pleased,  and  to  annex  to  the  donation  what  conditions:  they  thought 
fit.  How  came  they  by  this  right  ?  An  agreement  amongst  them- 
selves would  not  confer  it ;  that  could  only  adjust  what  already  be- 
longed to  them.  A  society  of  men  vote  themselves  to  be  the  own- 
ers of  a  region  of  the  world: — does  that-  vote,  unaccompanied  es- 
pecially with  any  culture,  enclosure,  or  proper  act  of  occupation, 
make  it  theirs  ?  does  it  entitle  them  to  exclude  others  from  it,  or 
to  dictate  the  conditions  upon  which  it  shall  be  enjoyed?  Yet  this 
original  collective  right  and  ownership  is  the  foundation  of  all  the 
reasoning  by  which  the  duty  of  allegiance  is  inferred  from  the  pos- 
session of  land. 

The  theory  of  government  which  affirms  the  existence  and  the 
obligation  of  a  social  compact,  would,  after  all,  merit  little  discus- 
sion, and  however  groundless  and  unnecessary,  should  receive  no. 
opposition  from  us,  did  it  not  appear  to  lead  to  conclusions  unfa- 
vourable to  the  improvement,  and  to  the  peace,  of  human  society. 

1st,  Upon  the  supposition  that  government  was  first  erected  by, 
and  that  it  derives  all  its.  just  authority  from  resolutions  entered  into 
by  a  convention  of  the  people,  it  is  capable  of  being  presumed, 
that  many  points  were  settled  by  that  convention,  anterior  to  the 
establishment  of  the  subsisting  legislature,  and  which  legislature, 
consequently,  has  no  right  to  alter,  or  interfere  with.  These  points 
are  called  the  fundamentals  of  the  constitution ;  and  as  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  determine  how  many,  or,  what  they  are,  the  suggesting  of  any 
such,  serves  extremely  to  embarrass  the  deliberations  of  thelegisla- 


OF    SUBMISSION,  243 

lure,  and  affords  a  dangerous  pretence  for  disputing  the  authority 
of  the  laws.  It  was  this  sort  of  reasoning  (so  far  as  reasoning  of 
any  kind  was  employed  in  the  question)  that  produced  in  this  na- 
tion the  doubt  which  so  much  agitated  the  minds  of  men  in  the 
reign  of  the  second  Charles,  whether  an  act  of  Parliament  could 
of  right  alter  or  limit  the  succession  of  the  Grown. 

2d/y,  If  it  be  by  virtue  of  a  compact  that  the  subject  owes  obe- 
dience to  civil  government,  it  will  follow  that  he  ought  to  abide  by 
the  form  of  government  which  he  finds  established,  be  it  ever  so 
absurd  or  inconvenient.  He  is  bound  by  his  bargain.  It  is  not 
permitted  to  any  man  to  retreat  from  his  engagement,  merely  be- 
cause he  finds  the  performance  disadvantageous,  or  because  he  has 
an  opportunity  of  entering  into  a  better.  This  law  of  contracts  is 
universal ;  and  to  call  the  relation  between  the  sovereign  and  the 
subject  a  contract,  yet  not  to  apply  to  it  the  rules,  or  allow  of  the 
effects  of  a  contract,  is  an  arbitrary  use  of  names,  and  an  unstea- 
diness in  reasoning,  which  can  teach  nothing.  Resistance  to  the 
encroachments  of  the  supreme  magistrate  may-be  justified  upon  this 
principle;  recourse  to  arms,  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  about  an 
amendment  of  the  constitution,  never  can.  No  form  of  govern- 
ment contains  a  provision  for  its  own  dissolution  ;  and  few  govern- 
ors will  consent  to  the  extinction,  or  even  to  any  abridgment  of 
their  own  power.  It  does  not  therefore  appear,  how  despotic  gov- 
ernments can  ever,  in  consistency  with  the  obligation  of  the  sub- 
ject, be  changed  or  mitigated.  Despostism  is  the  constitution  of 
many  states  ,  and  whilst  a  despotic  prince  exacts  from  his  subjects 
the  most  rigorous  servitude,  according  to  this  account,  he  is  only- 
holding  them  to  their  agreement.  They  may  vindicate,  by  force, 
the  rights  which  the  constitution  has  left  them ;  but  every-  attempt 
to  narrow  the  prerogative  of  the  crown,  by  new  limitations,  and  in 
opposition  to  the  will  of  the  reigning  prince,  whatever  opportuni- 
ties may  invite,  or  success  follow  it,  must  be  condemned  as  an  in- 
fraction of  the  compact  between  the  sovereign  and  the  subject. 

3rf/y,  Every  violation  of  the  compact  on  the  part  of  the  governor, 
releases  the  subject  from  his  allegiance,  and  dissolves  the  govern- 
ment. I  do  not  perceive  how  we  can  avoid  this  consequence,  if 
we  found  the  duty  of'  allegiance  upon  the  compact,  and  confess  any 
analogy  between  the  social  compact  and  other  contracts.  In  pri- 
vate contracts,  the  violation  or  non-performance  of  the  conditions, 
by  one  of  the  parties,  vacates  the  obligation  of  the  other.  Now. 
the  terms  and  articles  of  the  social  compact  being  nowhere  extant 
or  expressed  ;  the  rights  and  offices  of  the  administrator  of  an  em- 
pire being  so  many  and  various  ;  the  imaginary  and  controverted 


244  OF   SUBMISSION. 

line  of  his  prerogative  being  so  liable  to  -be  overstepped  in  one 
part  or  other  of  it;  the  position,  that  every  such  transgression 
amounts  to  a  forfeiture  of  the  government,  and  consequently  au- 
thorizes the  people  to  withdraw  their  obedience,  and  provide  for 
themselves  by  a  new  settlement,,  would  endanger  the  stability  of 
every  political  fabric  in  the  world,  and  has  in  fact  always  supplied 
the  disaffected  with  a  topic  of  seditious  declamation.  If  occasions 
have  arisen,  in  which  this  plea  has  been  resorted  to  with  justice  and 
success,  they  have  been  occasions  in  which  a  revolution  was  defen- 
sible upon  other  arid  plainer  principles.  The  plea  itself  is  at  all 
times  captious  and  unsafe. 

Wherefore,  rejecting  the  intervention  of  a  compact,  as  unfounded 
in  its  principle,  and  dangerous  in  the  application,  we  assign  for  the 
only  ground  of  the  subject's  obligation,  THE  WILL  OF  GOD,  AS  COL- 
LECTED FROM  EXPEDIENCY. 

The  steps  by  which  the  argument  proceeds  are  few  and  direct. — 
"  It  is  the  will  of  God  that  the  hapniness  of  human  life  be  promo- 
"ted:" — this  is  the  first  step,  and  the  foundation,  not  only  of  this, 
but  of  every  moral  conclusion.  "  Civil  society  conduces  to  that 
"end :"— this  is  the  second  proposition.  "Civil  societies  cannot 
"  be  upheld,  unless  in  each,  the  interest  of  the  whole  society  be 
"  binding  upon  every  part  and  member  of  it :" — this  is  the  third 
step,  and  conducts  us  to  the  conclusion,  namely,  "  that  so  long  as 
"the  interest  of  the  whole  society  requires  it,  that  is'so  long  as  the 
M  established  government  cannot  be  resisted  or  changed  without 
"  public  inconveniency,  it  is  the  will  of  God  (which  will  liniversal- 
"  ly  determines  our  duty)  that  the  established  government  be  obey- 
"  ed," — and  no  longer. 

This  principle  being  admitted,  the  justice  of  every  particular 
case  of  resistance  is  reduced  to  a  computation  of  the  quantity  of 
the  danger  and  grievance  on  the  one  side,  and  of  the  probability 
and  expense  of  redressing  it  on  the  other. 

But  who  shall  judge  of  this  ?  We  answer,  "  Every  man  for  him- 
"  self."  In  contentions  between  the  sovereign  and  the  subject,  the 
parties  acknowledge  no  common  arbitrator ;  and  it  would  be  ab- 
surd to  commit  the  decision  to  those  whose  conduct  has  provoked 
the  question,  and  whose  own  interest,  authority,  and  fate,  are  im- 
mediately concerned  in  it.  The  danger  of  error  and  abuse  is  no 
objection  to  the  rule  of  expediency,  because  every  other  rule  is 
liable  to  the  same  or  greater ;  and  every  rule  that  can  be  pro- 
pounded upon  the  subject  (like  all  rules  which  appeal  to,  or  bind 
the  conscience)  must  in  the  application  depend  upon  private  judg- 
ment* It  may  be  observed,  however,  that  it  ought  equally  to  be 


OF   SUBMISSION.  24o 

accounted  the  exercise  of  a  man's  private  judgment,  whether  he 
be  determined  by  reasoning's  and  conclusions  of  his  own,  or  sub.- 
mit  to  be  directed  by  the  advice  of  others,  provided  he  be  free  to 
choose  his  guide. 

We  proceed  to  point  out  some  easy  but  important  inferences, 
which  result  from  the  substitution  of  public  expediency  into  the 
place  of  all  implied  compacts,  promises,  or  conventions  whatsoever. 

I.  It  may  be  as  much  a  duty,  at  one  time,  to  resist  government, 
as  it  is,  at  another,  to  obey  it ;  to  wit,"  whenever  more  'advantage 
will,  in  our  opinion,  accrue  to  the  community,   from  resistance, 
than  mischief. 

II.  The  lawfulness  of  resistance,  or  the  lawfulness  of  a  revolt, 
does  not  depend  alone  upon  the  grievance  which  is  sustained  or 
feared,  but  also  upon  the  probable  expense  and  event  of  the  con- 
test.    They  who  concerted  the  Revolution  in  England  were  jus- 
tifiable in  their  counsels,  because,  from  the  apparent  disposition  of 
the  nation,  and  the  strength  and  character  of  the. parties  engaged, 
the"  measure  was  likely  to  be  brought  about  with  little  mischief  or 
bloodshed;   whereas,  it  might  have  been  a  question  with  many 
friends  of  their  country,  whether  the   injuries  then  endured  and 
threatened  would  have  authorized  the  renewal  of  a  doubtful  civil 
war. 

III.  Irregularity  in  the  first  foundation  of  a  state,  or  subsequent 
violence,  fraud,  or  injustice,  in  getting  possession  of  the  supreme 
power,  are  not  sufficient  reasons,  for  resistance,  after  the  govern- 
ment is  once  peaceably  settled.     No  subject  of  the  British  empire 
conceives  himself  engaged  to  vindicate  the  justice  of  the  Norman 
claim  or  conquest,  or  apprehends  that  his  duty  in  any  manner  de- 
pends upon  that  controversy.     So,   likewise,  if  th6  house  of  Lan- 
caster, or  even  the  posterity  of  Cromwell,  had  been  at  this  day 
seated  upon  the  throne  of  England,  we  should  have  been  as  little- 
concerned  to  inquire  how  the  founder  of  the  family  came  there. 
No  civil  contests  are  so  futile,  although  none  have  been  so  furious 
and  sanguinary,  as  those  which  are  excited  by  a  disputed  succession. 

IV.  Not  every  invasion  of  the  subject's  rights,  or  liberty,  or  of 
the  constitution  ;  not  every  breach  of  promise,  or  of  oath  ;  not  eve- 
ry stretch  of  prerogative,  abuse  of  power,  or  neglect  of  duty  by 
the  chief  magistrate,  or  by  the  whole  or  any  branch  of  the  legisla- 
tive body,  justifies  resistance,  unless  these  crimes  draw  after  them 
public  consequences  of  sufficient  magnitude,  to  outweigh  the  evils 
of  civil  disturbance.    Nevertheless,  every  violation  of  the  constitu- 
tion ought  to  be  watched  with  jealousy,  and  resented  as  such,  be~ 
yond  what  the  quantity  of  estimable  damage  would  require  or  war- 


246  OP    SUBMISSION. 

rant ;  because,  a  known  and  settled  usage  of  governing  affords  the 
best  security  against  the  enormities  of  uncontrolled  dominion,  and 
because  this  security  is  weakened  by  every  encroachment  which  is 
made  without  opposition,  or  opposed  without  effect. 

V.  No  usage,  law,  or  authority  whatever,  is  so  binding,  that  it 
need  or  ought  to  be  continued,  when  it  may  be  changed  with  ad- 
vantage to  the  community.     The  family  of  the  prince,  the  order  of 
succession,  the  prerogative  of  the  crown,  the  form  and  parts  of  the 
legislature,  together  with  the  respective  powers,  office,  duration, 
and  mutual  dependency  of  the  several  parts,  are  all  only  so  many 
laws,  mutable  like  other  laws,  whenever  expediency  requires,  ei- 
ther by  the  ordinary  act  of  the  legislature,  or,  if  the  occasion  de- 
serve it,  by  the  interposition  of  the  people.     These  points  are  wont 
to  be  approached  with  a  kind  of  awe  ;  they  are  represented  to  the 
mind  as  principles  of  the  constitution  settled  by  our  ancestors,  and, 
being  settled,  to  be  no  more  committed  to  innovation  or  debate  ;  as 
foundations  never  to  be  stirred  ;  as  the  terms  and  conditions  of  the 
social  compact,  to  which  every  citizen  of  the  state  has  engaged  his 
fidelity,  by  virtue  of  a  promise  which  he  cannot  now  recall.     Such 
reasons  have  no  place  in  our  system  ;  to  us,  if  there  be  any  good 
reason  for  treating  these  with  more  deference  and  respect  than  oth- 
er laws,  it  is,  either  the  advantage  of  the  present  constitution  of 
government,  (which  reason   must  be  of  different  force  in  different 
countries,)  or  because  in  all  countries  it  is  of  importance  that  the 
form  and  usage  of  governing  be  acknowledged  and  understood,  as 
well  by  the  governors  as  the  governed,  and  because,  the  seldomer 
it  is  changed,  the  more  it  -will  be  respected  by  both  sides. 

VI.  As  all  civil  obligation  is  resolved  into  expediency,  what  it 
may  be  asked,  ie  the  difference  between  the  obligation  of  an  Eng- 
lishman and  a  Frenchman  ?  or$  why  is  a  Frenchman  bound  "in  con- 
science to  bear  any  thing  from  his  king,  which  an  Englishman 
would  not  be  bound  to  bear,  since  the  obligatipn  of  both  is  foun- 
ded in  the  same  reason?  Their  conditions  may  differ,  but  their 
rights,  according  to  this  account,  should  seem  to  be  equal  ;  and 
yet  we  are  accustomed  to  speak  of  the  rights  as  well  as  of  the  hap- 
piness of  a  free  people,,  compared  with  what  belong  to  the  subjects 
of  absolute  monarchies :  how  you  will  say,  can  this  comparison  be 
explained,  unless  we  refer  to  a  difference  in  the  compacts  by  which 
they  are  respectively  bound  ? — This  is  a  fair  question,  and  the  an- 
swer to  it  will  afford  a  further  illustration  of  our  principles.     We 
admit,  then,  that  there  are  many  things  which,  a  Frenchman  is 
bound  in  conscience,  as  well  as  by  coercion,   to  endure  at  the 
Lands  of  his  prince,  to  which  an  Englishman  would  not  be  obliged 


op  SUBMISMOJT.  247 

to  submit :  but  we  assert,  that  it  is  for  these  two  reasons  alone ; 
first,  Because  the  same  act  of  the  prince  is  not  the  same  grievance, 
where  it  is  agreeable  to  the  constitution,  as  where  it  infringes  it ; 
secondly,  Because  redress  in  the  two  cases  is  not  equally  attain* 
able.  .Resistance  cannot  be  attempted  with  equal  hopes  of  suc- 
cess, or  with  the  same  prospect  of  receiving  support  from  others, 
where  the  people  are  reconciled  to  their  sufferings,  as  where  they 
are  alarmed  by  innovation.  In  this  way,  and  no  otherwise,  the 
subjects  of  different  states  posses*  different  civil  rights;  the  duty 
of  obedience  is  defined  by  different  boundaries  ;  and  the  point  of 
justifiable  resistance  placed  at  different  parts  of  the  scale  of  suffer- 
ing ;  all  which  is  sufficiently  intelligible  without  a  social  compact. 
VII.  "  The  interest  of  the  whole  society  is  binding  upon  every 
*'  part  of  it."  No  rule,  short  of  this,  will  provide  for  the  stability 
of  civil  government,  or  for  the  peace  and  safety  of  social  life. 
Wherefore,  as  individual  members  of  the  state  are  not  permitted 
to  pursue  their  private  emolument  to  the  prejudice  of  the  commu- 
nity, so  is  it  equally  a  consequence  of  this  rule,  that  no  particular 
colony,  province,  town,  or  district,  can  justly  concert  measures  for 
their  separate  interest,  which  shall  appear  at  the  same  time  to  di- 
minish the  sum  of  public  prosperity.  1  do  not  mean,  that  it  is  ne- 
cessary to  the  justice  of  a  measure,  that  it  profit  each  and  every 
part  of  the  community ;  (for,  as  the  happiness  of  the  whole  may  be 
increased,  whilst  that  of  some  parts  is  diminished,  it  is  possible  that 
the  conduct  of  one  part  of  an  empire  may  be  detrimental  to  some 
other  part,  and  yet  just,  provided  one  part  gain  more  in  happiness 
than  the  other  part  loses,  so  that  the  common  weal  be  augmented 
by  the  change  ; )  but  what  I  affirm  is,  that  those  counsels  can  ne- 
ver be  reconciled  with  the  obligations  resulting  from  civil  union, 
which  cause  the  whole  happiness  .of  the  societv  to  be  impaired  for 
the  conveniency  of  a  part.  This  conclusion  is  applicable  to  the 
question  of  right  between  Great  Britian  and  her  revolted  colonies. 
Had  I  been  an  American,  I  should  not  have  thought  it  enough  to 
have  had  it  even  demonstrated,  that  a  separation  from  the  parent 
state  would  produce  effects  beneficial  to  America  ;  my  relation  to 
that  state  imposed  upon  me  a  further  inquiry,  namely,  whether  the 
whole  happiness  of  the  empire  was  likely  to  be  promoted  by  such  a 
measure :  Not  indeed  the  happiness  of  every  part ;  that  was  not 
necessary,  nor  to  be  expected  : — but  whether  what  Great  Britian 
would  lose  by  the  separation,  was  likely  to  be  compensated  to  the 
joint  stock  of  happiness,  by  the  advantages  which  America  would 
receive  from  it.  The  contested  claims  of  sovereign  states,  and 
their  remote  dependencies,  may  be  submitted  to  the  adjudication  of 


248  op  CIVIT,  oBP.nir.NCE. 

this  rule  with  mutual  safety.  A  public  advantage  is  measured  by 
the  advantage  which  each  individual  receives,  and  by  the  number 
of  those  who  receive  it.  A  public  evil  is  compounded  of  the  same 
proportions.  Whilst,  therefore,  a  colony  is  small,  or  a  province 
thinly  inhabited,  if  a  competition  of  interests  arise  between  the 
original  country  and  their  acquired  dominions,  the  former  ought  to 
be  preferred  ;  because  it  is  fit  that  if  one  must  necessarily  be  sa- 
crificed, the  less  give  place  to  the  greater :  but  when,  by  an  in- 
crease of  population,  the  interest  of  the  provinces  begins  to  bear  a 
considerable  proportion  to  the  entire  interest  of  the  community,  it 
is  possible  that  they  may  suffer  so  much  by  their  subjection,  that 
not  only  theirs,  but  the  whole  happiness  of  the  empire  may  be  ob- 
structed by  their  union.  The  rule  and  principle  of  the  calculation 
being  still  the  same,  the  result  is  different :  and  this  difference  be- 
gets a  new  situation,  which  entitles  the  subordinate  parts  of  the 
state  to  more  equal  terms  of  confederation,  and  if  these  be  refused, 
to  independency. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OF  THE  DUTY  OF  CIVIL  OBEDIENCE,  AS  STATED  IN  THE 
CHRISTIAN  SCRIPTURES. 

WE  affirm  that,  as  to  the  extent'of  our  civil  rights  and  obliga- 
tions, Christianity  hath  left  us  where  she  found  us ;  that  she  hath 
neither  altered  nor  ascertained  it ;  that  the  New  Testament  con- 
tains not  one  passage,  which  fairly,  interpreted,  affords  either  ar- 
gument or  objection  applicable  to  any  conclusions  upon  the  sub- 
ject that  are  deduced  from  the  law  and  religion  of  nature. 

The  only  passages  which  have  been  seriously  alleged  in  the  con- 
troversy, or  which  it  is  necessary  for  us  to  state  and  examine,  are 
the  two  following ;  the  one  extracted  from  St.  Paul's  Epistle  to  the 
Romans,  the  other  from  the  First  General  Epistle  of  St.  Peter : 

ROMANS,  xiii.  1 — 7.  "  Let  every  soul  be  subject  unto  the  high- 
" er  powers:  For  there  is  no  power  but  of  God;  the  powers  that 
"be  are  ordained  of  God.  Whosoever  therefore  resisteth  the 
:'  power,  resisteth  the  ordinance  of  God  :  and  they  that  resist,  shall 
"  receive  to  themselves  damnation.  For  rulers  are  not  a  terror  to 
"  good  works  but  to  the  evil.  Wilt  thou  then  not  be  afraid  of  the 
" power?  Do  that  which  is  good,  and  thou  shall  have  praise  of  the 
"  same  :  for  he  is  the  minister  of  God  to  thee  for  good.  But  if  thou 
;l  do  that  which  is  evil,  be  afraid ;  for  he  beareth  not  the  sword  in 


Of    CIVIL    OBEDIENCE. 

"\  vain  ;  for  lie  is  the  minister  of  God,  .a  revenger  to  execute  wrath 
'  upon  him  that  doeth  evil  Wherefore  ye  must  needs  be  subject, 
-'  not  only  for  wrath,  but  also  for  conscience  sake.  For,  this  cause 
"  pay  you  tribute  also  :  for  they  are  God's  ministers,  attending  con- 
•"  tinually  upon  this  very  thing.  Render  therefore  to  all  their  dues  : 
-'  tribute  to  whom  tribute  is  due,  custom  to  whom  custom,  fear  to 
•'  whom  fear,  honour  to  whom  honour." 

1  PETER,  ii.  13 — IfJi  •'  Submit  yourselves  to  every  ordinance 
;<  of  man,  for  the  Lord's  sake ;  whether  it  be  to  the  King  as  su- 
"  preme ;  or  unto  Governors,  as  unto  them  that  are  sent  by  him  for 
"  the  punishment  of  evildoers  and  for  the  praise  of  them  that  do 
•'  well.  For  so  is  the  will  of  God,  that  with  well  doing  ye  may 
>!put  to  silence  the  ignorance  of  foolish  men;  as  free  and  not 
•"•'  using  your  liberty  for  a-c!oak  of  maliciousness,  but  as  the  servants 
"of  God." 

To  comprehend  the  proper  import  of  these  instructions,  let  the 
reader  reflect  that  upon  the  subject  of  civil  obedience  there  are 
two  questions ;  the  first  whether  to  obey  government  be  a  moral 
duty  and  obligation  upon  the  conscience  at  all?  the  second,  how 
far,  and  to  what  cases,  that  obedience  ought  to  extend  ?  that  these 
two  questions  are  so  distinguishable  in  the  imagination,  that  it  is 
possible  to  treat  of  the  one  without  any  thought  of  the  other ;  and 
lastly,  that  if  expressions  which  relate  to  one  of  these  questions  be 
transferred  and  applied  to  the  other,  it  is  with  great  danger  of  giving 
them  a  signification  very  different  from  the  author's  meaning.  This 
distinction  is  not  only  possible,  but  natural.  If  I  met  with  a  person 
who  appeared  to  entertain  doubts,  whether  civil  obedience  were  a 
moral  duty  which  ought  to  be  voluntarily  discharged,  or  whether 
it  were  not  a  mere  submission  to  force,  like  that  which  we  yield  to 
a  robber  who  holds  a  pistol  to  our  breast,  I  should  represent  to  him 
trie  use  and  offices  of  civil  government,  the  end  and  the  necessity 
of  civil  subjection;  or,  if  I  prdferred  a  different  theory,  I  should 
explain  to  him  the  social  compact,  urge  him  with  the  obligation 
and  equity  of  his  implied  promise  and  tacit  consent  to  be  govern- 
ed by  the  laws  of  the  state  from  which  he  received  protection ;  or 
I  should  argue,  perhaps,  that  nature  herself  dedicated  the  law  of 
subordination,  when  she  planted  within  us  an  inclination  to  asso- 
ciate with  our  species,  and  framed  us  with  capacities  so  various  and 
unequal.  From  whatever  principle  I  set  out,  1  should  labour  to 
infer  from  it  this  conclusion;  -'That  obedience  to  the  state  is  to 
••  be  numbered  amongst  the  relative  duties  of  human  life,  for  the 
;;  transgression  of  which  we  shall  be  accountable  at  the  tribunal 
"  of  divine  justice,  whether  the  magistrate  be  able  to  punish  us 
23 


250  OF    CIVIL    OBEDIESCE. 

"for  it  or  not;"  and  being  arrived  at  this  conclusion,  1  should 
stop,  having  delivered  the  conclusion  itself,  and  throughout  the 
whole  argument  expressed  the  obedience,  which  I  inculcated  in  the 
most  general  and  unqualified  terms;  all  reservations  and  restric- 
tions being  superfluous,  and  foreign  to  the  doubts  I  was  employed 
to  remove. 

If,  in  a  short  time  afterwards,  I  should  be  accosted  by  the  same 
person,  with  complaints  of  public  grievances,  of  exorbitant  taxes. 
of  acts  of  cruelty  and  oppression,  of  tyrannical  encroachments  up- 
on the  ancient  or  stipulated  rights  of  the  people,  and  should  be 
consulted  whether  it  were  lawful  to  revolt,  or  justifiable  to  join  in  an 
attempt  to  shake  off  the  yoke  by  open  resistance ;  I  should  certain- 
ly consider  myself  as  having  a  case  in  question  before  me  very  dil- 
ferent  from  the  former.  -  I  should  now  define  and  discriminate, 
should  reply,  that  if  public  expediency  be  the  foundation,  it  is  also 
the  measure  of  civil  obedience ;  that  the  obligation  of  subjects  and 
sovereigns  is  reciprocal;  that  the  duty  of  allegiance,  whether  it 
be  founded  in  utility  or  compact,  is  neither  unlimited  nor  uncondi- 
tional; that  peace  may  be  purchased  too  dear;  that  patience  be- 
comes culpable  pusillanimity,  when  it  serves  only  to  encourage  our 
rulers  to  increase  the  weight  of  our  burthen,  or  to  bind  it  the  fas- 
ter ;  that  the  submission  which  surrenders  the  liberty  of  a  nation, 
and  entails  slavery  upon  future  generations,  is  enjoined  by  no  law 
of  rational  morality  ;  finally,  I  should  instruct  him  to  compare  the 
peril  and  expense  of  his  enterprise  with  the  effects  it  was  expected 
to  produce,  and  to  make  choice  of  the  alternative  by  which,   not 
his  own  present  relief  or  profit,  but  the  whole  and  permanent  in- 
terest of  the  state  was  likely  to  be  best  promoted.     If  any  one  who 
had  been  present  at  both  these  conversations  should  upbraid  me 
with  change  or  inconsistency  of  opinion,  should  retort  upon  me  the 
passive  doctrine  I  before  taught,  the  large  and   absolute  terms  in 
which  I  then  delivered  lessons  of  obedience  and  submission,  I  should 
account  myself  unfairly  dealt  with.     1  should  reply  that  the  only 
difference  which  the  language  of  the  two  conversations  presented 
was,  that  I  added  now  many  exceptions  and  limitations  which  were 
omitted  or  unthought  of  then  ;  that  this  difference  arose  naturnlly 
from  the  two  occasions,  such  exceptions  being  as  necessary  to  the 
subject  of  our  present  conference,  as  they  would  have  been  super- 
fluous apd  unseasonable  in  the  former.     Now,  the  difference  in 
these  two  conversations   is  precisely  the  distinction  to  be  taken  in 
interpreting  those  passages  of  scripture  concerning  which  we  arc 
debating.     They  inculcate  the  duty,  they  do  not  describe  the  ex- 
tent of  it.     They  enforce  the  obligation  by  the  proper  sanctions  of 


OF    CIVIT-    OBEDIENCE.  231 

Christianity  without  intending1  either  to  enlarge  or  contract,  with- 
out considering  indeed  the  limits  by  which  it  is  bounded.  This  i^ 
also  the  method  in  which  the  same  apostles  enjoin  the  duty  of  ser- 
vants to  their  masters,  of  children  to  their  parents,  of  wives  to  their 
husbands:  "Servants  be  subject  to  your  masters." — "Children 
"  obey  your  parents  in  all  things." — "  Wives,  submit  yourselves  un- 
"  to  your  own  husbands."  The  same  concise  and  absolute  form  ol 
expression  occurs  in  all  these  precepts,  the  same  silence  as  to  any 
exceptions  or  distinctions ;  yet  no  one  doubts  but  that  the  com- 
mands of  masters,  parents,  and  husbands,  are  often  so  immoderate, 
unjust,  and  inconsistent  with  other  obligations,  that  they  both  may 
and  ought  to  be  resisted.  In  letters  or  dissertations  written  pro- 
fessedly upon  separate  articles  of  morality,  we  might  with  more 
reason  have  looked  for  a  precise  delineation  of  our  duty,  and  some 
degree  of  modern  accuracy  in  the  rules  which  were  laid  down  for 
our  direction ;  but  in  those  short  collections  of  practical  maxims 
which  compose  the  conclusion,  or  some  small  portion,  of  a  doctri- 
nal, or  perhaps  controversial  epistle,  we  cannot  be  surprised  to  find 
the  author  more  solicitous  to  impress  the  duty,  than  curious  to  enu- 
merate exceptions.  The  consideration  of  this  distinction  is  alone 
sufficient  to  vindicate  these  passages  of  scripture  from  any  expla- 
nation which  may  be  put  upon  them,  in  favour  of  an  unlimited  pas- 
sive obedience.  But  if  we  be  permitted  to  assume  a  supposition, 
which  many  commentators  proceed  upon  as  a' certainty,  that  the 
first  Christians  privately  cherished  an  opinion,  that  their  conver- 
sion to  Christianity  entitled  them  to  new  immunities,  to  an  exemp- 
tion, as  of  right  (however  they  might  give  way  to  necessity,)  from 
the  authority  of  the  Roman  sovereign,  we  are  Turnished  with  a  still 
more  apt  and  satisfactory  interpretation  of  the  apostles'  words. 
The  two  passages  apply  with  great  propriety  to  the  refutation  of 
tlu's  error ;  they  teach  the  Christian  convert  to  obey  the  magis- 
trate "for  the  Lord's  sake;"  "not  only  for  wrath,  but  for  con- 
•'  science  sake ;" — "  there  is  no  power  but  of  God ;"  "  that  the  pow- 
"  ers  that  be,"  even  the  present  rulers  of  the  Roman  empire,  though 
heathens  and  usurpers,  seeing  they  are  in  possession  of  the  actual 
and  necessary  authority  of  civil  government,  "  are  ordained  of 
"  God,"  and,  consequently,  entitled  to  receive  obedience  from  those 
who  profess  themselves  the  peculiar  servants  of  God,  in  a  greater 
(certainly  not  in  a  less)  degree  than  from  any  others.  They  brief- 
ly describe  the  offices  of  "civil  governors,  the  punishment  of  evil 
;:  doers,  and  the  praise  of  them  that  do  well ;  from  which  description 
of  the  use  of  government,  they  justly  infer  the  duty  of  subjection  ; 
duty  being  as  extensive  as  the  reason  upon  which  it  is  foun- 


.'52  O^    CIVIL    OBEDIENCE. 

•led,  belongs  to  Christians  no  less  than  to  the  heathen  members  oir 
the  community.  If  it  be  admitted,  that  the  two  apostles  wrote  with 
a  view  to  this  particular  question,  it  win  be  confessed,  that  theii 
words  cannot  be  transferred  to  a  question  totally  different  from  this, 
with  any  certainty  of  carrying  along  with  us  their  authority  ami 
intention.  There  exists  no  resemblance  between  the  case  of  a 
primitive  convert,  who  disputed  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Roman  go- 
vernment over  a  disciple  of  Christianity,  and  his  who,  acknowledg- 
ing the  general  authority  of  the  state  over  all  its  subjects,  doubts 
whether  that  authority  be  not,  in  some  important  brianch  of  it,  so 
ill  constituted,  or  abused,  as  to  warrant  the  endeavours  of  the  peo- 
ple to  bring  about  a  reformation  by  force.  Nor  can  we  judge 
what  reply  the  apostles  would  have  made  to  this  second  question, 
tf  it  had  been  proposed  to  them,  from  any  thing  they  have  delive- 
red upon  the  first;  any  more  than  in  the  two  consultations  above 
described,  it  could  be  known  beforehand  what  I  would  say  in  the 
atter,  from  which  I  gave  to  the  former. 

The  only  defect  in  this  account  is,  that  neither  the  Scriptures, 
nor  any  subsequent  history  of  the  early  ages  of  the  church  furnish 
any  direct  attestation  of  the  existence  of  such  disaffected  senti- 
ments amongst  the  primitive  converts.     They  supply  indeed  some 
circumstances  which  render  probable  the  opinion,  that  extravagant 
notions  of  the   political   rights  of  the  Christian    state   were  at  that 
time  entertained   by  many  proselytes  to  the  religion.     From  the 
question  proposed  to  Christ,  "  Is  it  lawful  to  give  tribute  unto  Ce- 
sar ?"  it  may  be  presumed  that  doubts  had  been  started  in  the  Jew- 
ish schools  concerning  the  obligation,  or  even  lawfulness,  of  sub- 
mission to  the  Roman  yoke.     The  accounts  delivered  by  Josephus. 
of  various  insurrections  of  the  Jews  of  that  and  the  following  age. 
excited  by  this  principle,  or  upon  this  pretence,  confirm  the  pre- 
sumption.    For,  as  the  Christians  were  at  first  chiefly  taken  from 
the  Jews,  confounded  with  them  by  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  from 
Hhe  affinity  of  the  two  religions,   apt  to  intermix  the  doctrines  of 
both,  it  is  no!  to  be  wondered   at  that  a  tenet  so  Battering  to  the 
self-importance  of  those  who  embraced  it,  should  have  been  com- 
municated  to  the  new  institution.     Again,  the  teachers  of  Chris- 
tianity, amongst  the  privileges  which  their  religion  conferred  upon 
its  professors,  were  wont  to  extol  the  "  liberty  into  which  they  were 
"  called,"—"  in  which  Christ  had  made  them  free."     This  liberty, 
,vhich  was  intended  of  a  deliverance  from  the  various  servitude,  in 
which  they  had  heretofore  lived,  to  the  domination  of  sinful   pas- 
sions,  to  the  superstition  of  the  Gentile  idolatry,  or  the  encumbe- 
red ritual  of  the  Jewish  dispensation,  might  by  some  be  iaterpre- 


OS1   CIVIL   OBEDIENCE.  253 

ted  to  signify  an  emancipation  from  all  restraint  which  was  impos- 
ed by  an  authority  merely  human.  At  least,  they  might  be  repre- 
sented by  their  enemies  as  maintaining  notions  of  this  dangerous 
tendency.  To  some  error  or  calumny  of  this  kind,  the  words  ot 
St.  Peter,  seem  to  allude  : — "  For  so  is  the  will  of  God,  that  witli 
"  well  doing  ye  may  put  to  silence  the  ignorance  of  foolish  men  : 
"  as  free  and  not  using  your  liberty  for  a  cloak  of  maliciousness 
•l  (i.  e.  sedition,)' but  as  the  servants  of  God."  After  all,  if  any 
one  think  this  conjecture  too  feebly  supported  by  testimony  to 
be  relied  upon  in  the  interpretation  of  Scripture,  he  will  then 
revert  to  the  considerations  alleged  in  the  preceding  part  of  this 
chapter. 

After  so  copious  an  account  of  what  we  apprehend  to  be  the 
general  design  and  doctrine  of  these  much  agitated  passages,  little 
need  be  added  in  explanation  of  particular  clauses.  St.  Paul  has 
said,  "  Whosoever  resisteth  the  power,  resisteth  the  ordinance  of 
"  God."  This  phrase,  "  the  ordinance  of  God,'-'  is  by  many  so  in- 
terpreted as  to  authorize  the  most  exalted  and  superstitious  ideas 
of  the  regal  character.  But  surely  such  interpreters  have  sacrifi- 
ced truth  to  adulation.  For  in  the  first  place,  the  expression,  as 
used  by  St.  Paul,  is  just  as  applicable  to  one  kind  of  government, 
and  to  one  kind  of  succession,  as  to  another; — to  the  elective  ma- 
gistrates of  a  pure  republic,  as  to  an  absolute  hereditary  monarch. 
In  the  next  place,  it  is  not  affirmed  of  the  supreme  magistrate  ex- 
clusively, that  he  is  the  ordinance  of  God ;  the  title,  whatever  it  im- 
ports, belongs  to  every  inferior  officer  of  the  state  as  much  as  to  the 
highest.  The  divine  right  of  kings  is  like  the  divine  right  of  con- 
stables,— the  law  of  the  land,  or  even  actual  and  quiet  possession 
of  their  office; — a  right  ratified,  we  humbly  presume,  by  the  di- 
vine approbation,  so  long  as  obedience  to  their  authority  appears 
to  be  necessary  or  conducive  to  the  common  welfare.  Princes  are 
ordained  of  God  by  virtue  only  of  that  general  decree,  by  which 
he  assents  and  adds  the  sanction  of  his  will  to  every  law  of  society 
which  promotes  his  own  purpose,  the  communication  of  human 
happiness ;  according  to  which  idea  of  their  origin  and  constitution 
(and1  without  any  repugnancy  to  the  words  of  St.  Paul,)  they  are 
hy  St.  Peter  denominated  the  ordinance  of  man. 


'-'» i  crrir,  r,iBEBTY.~ 

CHAPTER  V. 

OF  CIVIL  LIBERTY. 

CIVIL  liberty  is  the  not  being  restrained  by  any  laic,  but  what 
onduces  in  a  greater  degree  to  the  public  welfare. 

To  do  what  we  will,  is  natural  liberty ;  to  do  what  we  will,  con- 
sistently with  the  interest  of  the  community  to  which  we  belong-, 
is  civil  liberty  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  only  liberty  to  be  desired  in  a 
state  of  civil  society. 

I  should  wish,  no  doubt,,  to  be  allowed  to  act  in  every  instance- 
as  I  pleased,,  but  I  reflect  that  the  rest  also  of  mankind  would  then 
do  the  same  ;  in  which  state  of  universal  independence  and  self-di- 
rection, I  should  meet  with  so  many  checks  and  obstacles  to  my 
own  will,  from  the  interference  and  opposition  of  other  men's,  that 
not  only  my  happiness,  but  my  liberty,  would  be  less,  than  whilst 
the  whole  community  were  subjected  to  the  dominion  of  equal 
Saws. 

The  boasted  liberty  of  a  state  of  nature  exists  only  in  a  state  of 
oolitnde.  In  every  kind  and  degree  of  union  and  intercourse  with 
his  species,  the  liberty  of  the  individual  is  augmented  by  the  very 
laws  which  restrain  it ;  because  he  gains  more  from  the  limitation 
of  other  men's  freedom  than  he  suffers  by  the  diminution  of  his 
own.  Natural  liberty  is  the  right  of  common  upon  a  waste ;  civil 
liberty  is  the  safe,  exclusive,  unmolested  enjoyment  of  a  cultivated 
enclosure. 

The  definition  of  civil  liberty  above  laid  down  imports,  that  the 
laws  of  a  free  people  impose  no.  restraints  upon  the  private  will  of 
the  subject,  which  do  not  conduce  in  a  greater  degree,  to  the  pub- 
,iic  happiness;  by  which  it  is  intimated,  1st,  That  restraint  itself  is 
an  evil ;  2dZy,  That  this  evil  ought  to  be  overbalanced  by  some 
public  advantage ;  3dly,  That  the  proof  of  this  advantage  lies  upon 
i;he  legislature  ;  4ttily,  That  a  law  being  found  to  produce  no  sen- 
sible good  effects,  is  3.  sufficient  reason  for  repealing  it,  as  adverse 
and  injurious  to  the  rights  of  a  free  citizen,  without  demanding  spe- 
cific evidence  of  its  bad  effects.  This  maxim  might  be  remember- 
ed with  advantage  in  a  revision  of  many  laws  of  this  country ;  espe- 
cially of  the  game  laws  ;  of  the  poor  laws,  so  far  as  they  lay  res- 
f.rictions  upon  the  poor  themselves;  of  the  laws  against  Papists  and 
Dissenters ;  and,  amongst  a  people  enamoured  to  excess  and  jea- 
lous of  their  liberty,  it  seerns  a  matter  of  surprise,  that  this  princi- 
ple has  been  so  imperfectly  Blended  to. 

The  degree  of  actual  liberty  always  bearing,  according  to  this 


CIVIC   LIBERT*.  25i> 

account  of  it,  a  reversed  proportion  to  the  number  and  severity  of 
the  restrictions  which  are  either  useless,  or  the  utility  of  which 
does  not  outweigh  the  evil  of  the  restraint,  it  follows,  that  every 
nation  possesses  some,  no  nation  perfect  liberty ;  that  this  liberty 
may  be  enjoyed  under  every  form  of  government :  that  it  may  be 
impaired  indeed,  or  increased,  but  that  it  is  neither  gained,  nor 
lost,  nor  recovered,  by  any  single  regulation,  change  or  event  what- 
ever :  that,  consequently,  those  popular  phrases  which  speak  of  a 
free  people  ;  of  a  nation  of  slaves  ;  which  call  one  revolution  the 
era  of  liberty,  or  another  the  loss  of  it ;  with  many  expressions  of 
a  like  absolute  form,  are  intelligible  only  in  a  comparitive  sense. 

Hence  also  we  are  enabled  to  apprehend  the  distinction  between 
personal  and  civil  liberty.  A  citizen  of  the  freest  republic  in  the 
world  may  be  imprisoned  for  his  crimes  ;  and  though  his  persona1 
freedom  be  restrained  by  bolts  and  fetters,  so  long  as  his  cofine- 
rnent  is  the  effect  of  a  beneficial  public  law,  his  civil  liberty  is  nof 
invaded.  If  this  instance  appear  dubious,  the  following  will  be 
plainer.  A  passenger  from  the  Levant,  who  upon  his  return  to 
England,  should  be  conveyed  to  a  Lazaretto  by  an  order  of  quaran- 
tine, with  whatever  impatience  he  might  desire  his  enlargement, 
and  though  he  saw  a  guard  placed  at  the  door  to  oppose  his  escape, 
or  even  ready  to  destroy  his  life  if  he  attempted  it,  would  hardly 
accuse  government  of  encroaching  upon  his  civil  freedom  ;  nay, 
might  perhaps  rather  congratulate  himself,  that  he  had  at  length 
set  his  foot  again  in  a  land  of  liberty.  The  manifest  expediency 
of  the  measure  not  only  justifies  it,  but  reconciles  the  most  odiou& 
confinement  with  the  perfect  possession  and  the  loftiest  notions  ot" 
civil  liberty.  And  if  this  be  true  of  the  coercion  of  a  prison^  thai 
it  is  compatible  with  a  state  of  civil  freedom,  it  cannot  with  reason 
be  disputed  of  those  more  moderate  constraints  which  the  ordinary 
operation  of  government  imposes  upon  the  will  of  the  individual. 
It  is  not  the  rigour,  but  the  inexpediency  of  laws  and  acts  of  autho- 
rity, which  makes  them  tyrannical. 

There  is  another  idea  of  civil  liberty,  which  though  neither  so 
simple  nor  so  accurate  as  the  former,  agrees  better  with  the  signi- 
fication, which  the  usage  of  common  discourse,  as  well  as  the  ex- 
ample of  many  respectable  writers  upon  the  subject,  has  affixed  to 
the  term.  This  idea  places  liberty  in  security  ;  making  it  to  con- 
sist not  merely  in  an  actual  exemption  from  the  constraint  of  use- 
less and  noxious  laws- and  acts  of  dominion,  but  in  being  free  from 
(he  danger  of  having  any  such  hereafter  imposed  or  exercised. 
Thus,  speaking  of  the  political  state  of  modern  Europe,  we  arc 
accustomed  to  say  of  Sweden,  that  she  hath  lost  her  liberty  by  tbe 


CIVIL,    LIBERTY. 


revolution  which  lately  took  place  in  that  country  ;  and  yet  v>  t 
are  assured  that  the  people  continue  to  be  governed  by  the  same 
laws  as  before,  or  by  others  which  are  wiser,  milder,  and  more 
equitable.  What  then  have  they  lost  ?  They  have  lost  the  power 
and  functions  of  their  diet  ;  the  constitution  of  their  states  and  or- 
ders, whose  deliberation  and  concurrence  were  required  in  the  for- 
mation and  establishment  of  every  public  law  ;  and  thereby  have 
parted  with  the  security  which  they  possessed  against  any  attempts 
of  the  crown  to  harass  its  subjects,  by  oppressive  and  useless  ex- 
ertions of  prerogative.  The  loss  of  this  security  we  denominate  the 
loss  of  liberty.  They  have  changed,  not  their  laws,  but  their  le- 
gislature ;  not  their  enjoyment,  but  their  safety  ;  not  their  present 
burthens,  but  their  prospects  of  future  grievances  ;  and  this  we 
pronounce  a  change  from  the  condition  of  freemen  to  that  of 
slaves.  In  like  manner,  in  our  own  country,  the  act  of  Parlia- 
ment, in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  which  gave  to  the  king's 
proclamation  the  force  of  law,  has  properly  been  called  a  complete 
and  formal  surrender  of  the  liberty  of  the  nation  ;  and  would  have 
been  so,  although  no  proclamation  were  issued  in  pursuance  of 
these  new  powers,  or  none  but  what  was  recommended  by  the 
highest  wisdom  and  utility.  The  security  was  gone.  Were  it  pro- 
bable that  the  welfare  and  accommodation  of  the  people  would  be 
as  studiously,  and  as  providently  consulted  in  the  edicts  of  a  despo- 
tic prince,  as  by  the  resolutions  of  a  popular  assembly,  then  would 
an  absolute  form  of  government  be  no  less  free  than  the  purest  de- 
mocracy. The  different  degree  of  care  and  knowledge  of  the  pub- 
lic interest  which  may  reasonably  be  excepted  from  the  different 
form  a»d  composition  of  the  legislature,  constitutes  the  distinction, 
in  respect  of  liberty,  as  well  between  these  two  extremes,  as  be- 
tween all  the  intermediate  modifications  of  civil  government. 

The  definitions  which  have  been  framed  of  civil  liberty,  and 
which  have  become  the  subject  of  much  unnecessary  altercation. 
are  most  of  them  adapted  to  this  idea.  Thus  one  political  writer 
makes  the  very  essence  of  the  subject's  liberty  to  consist  in  his  be- 
ing governed  by  no  laws  but  those  to  which  he  hath  actually  con- 
sented ;  another  is  satisfied  with  an  indirect  and  virtual  consent  ; 
another,  again  places  civil  liberty  in  the  separation  of  the  legisla- 
tive and  executive  offices  of  government  ;  another,  in  the  being  go- 
verned by  law,  that  is  by  known,  preconstituted,  inflexible  rules  of 
action  and  adjudication  ;  a  fifth,  in  the  exclusive  right  of  the  peo- 
ple to  tax  themselves  by  their  own  representatives  ;  a  sixth,  in  the 
freedom  and  purity  of  elections  of  representatives  ;  a  seventh,  in 
the  control  which  the  democratic  part  of  the  constitution  possesses 


CIVIL    LIBERTY.  25T 

over  the  military  establishment.  Concerning  which,  and  some 
other  similar  accounts  of  civil  liberty,  it  may  be  observed,  that  they 
all  labour  under  one  iflaccuracy,  viz.  that  they  describe  not  so 
much  liberty  itself,  as  the  safeguards  and  preservatives  of  liberty : 
for  example,  a  man's  being  governed  by  no  laws,  but  those  to 
which  he  has  given  his  consent,  were  it  practicable,  is  no  other- 
wise neccessary  to  the  enjoyment  of  civil  liberty,  than  as  it  affords 
a  probable  security  against  the  dictation  of  laws,  imposing  superflu- 
ous restrictions  upon  his  private  will.  This  remark  is  applicable 
to  the  rest.-  The  diversity  of  these  definitions  will  not  surprise  us, 
when  we  consider  that  there  is  no  contrariety  or  opposition  amongst 
them  whatever ;  for  by  how  many  different  provisions  and  precau- 
tions civil  liberty  is  fenced  and  protected,  so  many  different  ac- 
counts of  liberty  itself,  all  sufficiently  consistent  with  truth  and 
with  each  other,  may,  according  to  this  mode  of  explaining  the 
term,  be  framed  and  adopted. 

Truth  cannot  be  offended  by  a  definition,  but  propriety  maj'. 
In  which  view,  those  definitions  of  liberty  ought  to  be  rejected, 
which,  by  making  that  essential  to  civil  freedom  which  is  unattain- 
able in  experiencer  inflame  expectations  that  can  never  be  grati- 
fied, and  disturb  the  public  content  with  complaints,  which  no 
wisdom  or  benevolence  of  government  can  remove. 

It  will  not  be  thought  extraordinary,  that  an  idea,  which  occurs 
so  much  oftener  as  the  subject  of  panegyric  and  careless  declama- 
tion, than  of  just  reasoning-  or  correct  knowledge,  should  be  at- 
tended with  uncertainty  and  confusion  :  or  that  it  should  be  found 
impossible  -to  contrive  a  definition,  which  may  include  the  nume- 
rous, unsettled,  and  ever  varying  significations,  which  the  term  is 
made  to  stand  for,  and  at  the  same  time  accord  with  the  condition 
and  experience  of  social  life. 

Of  the  two  ideas  that  have  been  stated  of  civil  liberty,  which- 
ever we  assume,  and  whatever  reasoning  we  found  upon  them  con- 
cerning its  extent,  nature,  value,  and  preservation,  this  is  the  con- 
clusion ; — that  that  people,  government,  and  constitution,  is  the 
freest,  which  makes  the  best  provision  for  the  enacting  of  expedient 
,»nd  salutary  laws, 


CHAPTER   VI. 

OF  DIFFERENT  FORMS  OF  GOVERNMENT. 

As  a  scries  of  appeals  must  be  finite,  there  necessarily  exists  in 
ever}-  government  a  power  from  winch  the  constitution  has  pro- 
vided no  appeal ,  and  which  power,  for  that  reason,  may  be  termed 
absolute,  omnipotent,  uncontrollable,  arbitrary,  despotic  ;  and  i* 
alike  so  in  all  countries. 

The  person  or  assembly  in  whom  this  power  resides  is  called  the 
novereign,  or  the  supreme  power  of  the  state. 

Since  to  the  same  power  unirersally  appertains  the  office  of  esta- 
blishing public  laws,  it  is  called  also  the  legislature  of  the  state. 

A  government  receives  its  denomination  from  the  form  of  the  le- 
gislature ;  which  form  is  likewise  what  we  commonly  mean  by  the- 
constitution  of  a  country. 

Political  writers  enumerate  three  principal  forms  of  government, 
which,  however,  are  to  be  regarded  rather  as  the  simple  forms,  by 
some  combination  and  intermixture  of  which  all  actual  govern- 
ments are  composed,  than  as  any  where  existing  in  -&  pure  and  ele- 
mentary state.  These  forms  are, — 

I.  Despotism,  or  absolute  MONARCHY,  where  the  legislature  is  in 
ar  single  person. 

II.  An  ARISTOCRACY,  where  the  legislature  is  in  a  select  assem- 
bly, the  members  of  which  either  fill  up  by  election  the  vacancies 
in  their  own  body,  or  succeed  to  their  places  in  it  by  inheritance, 
property,  tenure  of  certain  lands,  or  in  respect  of  some  personal 
right  or  qualification. 

III.  A  REPUBLIC,  or  democracy,  where  the  people  at  large, 
cither  collectively  or  by  representation,  constitute  the  legislature. 

The  separate  advantages  of  MONARCHY  are, — unity  of  council, 
activity,  decision,  secrecy;  despatch  ;  the  military  strength  and 
energy  which  result  from  these  qualities  of  government;  the  exclu- 
sion of  popular  and  aristocratical  contentions  ;  the  preventing,  by 
a  known  rule  of  succession,  of  all  competition  for  the  supreme 
power ;  and  thereby  repressing  the  hopes,  intrigues,  and  dangerous 
ambition  of  aspiring  citizens. 

The  mischiefs,  or  rather  the  dangers,  of  MONARCHY  are, — tyran- 
ny, expense,  exaction,  military  domination  ;  unnecessary  wars, 
waged  to  gratify  the  passions  of  an  individual ;  risk  of  the  character 
of  the  reigning  prince;  ignorance  in  the  governors,  of  the  interests 
and  a«commodation  of  the  people,  and  a  consequent  deficiency  of 
salutary  regulations ;  want  of  constancy  and  uniformity  in  the  rules 


OF   GOVERNMENT.  ~2j$ 

\)f  government,  and,  proceeding  from  thence,  insecurity  of  person 
and  property. 

The  separate  advantage  of  an  ARISTOCRACY  consists  in  the  wis- 
dom which  may  be  expected  from  experience  and  education: — a 
permanent  council  naturally  possesses  experience ;  and  the  mem- 
bers who  succeed  to  their  places  in  it  by  inheritance,  will  probably 
be  trained  and  educated  with  a  view  to  the  stations  which  they  arc 
destined  by  their  birth  to  occupy. 

The  mischiefs  of  an  ARISTOCRACY  are, — dissensions  in  the  ruling- 
orders  of  the  state,  which,  from  the  want  of  a  common  superior  arc 
liable  to  proceed  to  the  most  desperate  extremities  ;  oppression  of 
the  lower  orders  by  the  privileges  of  the  higher,  and  by  laws  partial 
to  the  separate  interest  of  the  law-makers. 

The  advantages  of  a  REPUBLIC  are, — liberty,  or  exemption  from 
needless  restrictions  ;  equal  laws  ;  regulations  adapted  to  the 
wants  and  circumstances  of  the  people  ;  public  spirit,  frugalit}-. 
•averseness  to  war  ;  the  opportunities  which  democratic  assemblies 
afford  to  men  of  ever}'  description,  of  producing  their  abilities  and 
counsels  to  public  observation,  and  the  exciting  thereby,  and  call- 
ing forth  to  the  service  of  the  commonwealth,  the  faculties  of  its 
best  citizens. 

The  evils  of  a  REPUBLIC  are, — dissensions,  tumults,  faction;  the 
attempts  of  powerful  citizens  to  possess  themselves  of  the  empire ; 
the  confusion,  rage,  and  clamour,  which  are  the  inevitable  conse- 
quences of  assembling  multitudes,  and  of  propounding  questions  of 
state  to  the  discussion  of  the  people ;  the  delay  and  disclosure  of  pub- 
lic counsels  and  designs  ;  and  the  imbecility  of  measures  retarded 
by  the  necessity  of  obtaining  the  consent  of  members  :  lastly,  the 
oppression  »f  the  provinces  which  are  not  admitted  to  a  participa- 
tion in  the  legislative  power. 

A  mixed  government  is  composed  by  the  combination  of  two  01 
more  of  the  simple  forms  of  government  above  described; — and  in 
whatever  proportion  each  form  enters  into  the  constitution  of  a  go- 
vernment, in  the  same  proportion  may  both  the  advantages  and 
evils,  which  we  have  attributed  to  that  form,  be  expected  ;  that  is, 
those  are  the  uses  to  be  maintained  and  cultivated  in  each  part  oi' 
the  constitution,  and  these  are  the  dangers  to  be  provided  against 
ui  each.  Thus,  if  secrecy  and  despatch  be  truly  enumerated 
amongst  the  separate  excellencies,  of  regal  government,  then  a 
mixed  government,  which  retains  monarchy  in  one  part  of  its  con- 
stitution, should  be  careful  that  the  other  estates  of  the  empire  do 
not,  by  an  officious  and  inquisitive  interference  with  the  executive 
functions,  which  arc,  or  ought  to  be,  reserved  to  the  administration 


260  CP   GOVERNMENT. 

of  the  prince,  interpose  delays,  or  divulge  what  it  is  expedient  M 
conceal.  On  the  other  band,  if  profusion,  exaction,  military  domi- 
nation, and  needless  wars,  be  justly  accounted  natural  properties  ol 
a  monarchy,  in  its  simple  unqualified  form  ;  then  are  these  the  ob- 
jects to  which,  in  a  mixed  government,  the  aristocratic  and  popu- 
Jar  parts  of  the  constitution  ought  to  direct  their  vigilance  ;  the 
dangers  against  which  they  should  raise  and  fortify  their  barriers  ; 
these  are  departments  of  sovereignty,  over  which  a  power  of  inspec- 
tion and  control  ought  to  be  deposited  with  the  people. 

The  same  observation  may  be  repeated  of  all  the  other  advan- 
tages and  inconveniences  which  have  been  ascribed  to  the  several 
simple  forms  of  government,  and  affords  a  rule  whereby  to  direct 
the  construction,  improvement,  and  administration  of  mixed  go- 
vernmeuts,— subjected,  however,  to  this  remark,  that  a  quality 
sometimes  results  from  the  conjunction  of  two  simple  forms  of  go- 
vernment, which  belongs  not  to  the  separate  existence  of  either  ; 
thus  corruption,  which  has  no  place  in  an  absolute  monarchy,  and 
little  in  a  pure  republic,  is  sure  to  gain  admission  into  a  constitution 
which  divides  the  supreme  power  between  an  executive  magistrate 
nnd  a  popular  council. 

An  hereditary  MONARCHY  is  universally  to  be  preferred  to  an 
elective  monarchy.  The  confession  of  every  writer  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  civil  government,  the  experience  of  ages,  the  example  of 
Poland,  and  of  the  Papal  dominions,  seem  to  place  this  amongst  the 
few  indubitable  maxims  which  the  science  of  politics  admits  of. 
A  crown  is  too  splendid  a  prize  to  be  conferred  upon  merit ;  the 
passions  or  interests  6f  the  electors  exclude  all  consideration  of  the 
qualities  of  the  competitors.  The  same  observation  holds  concern- 
ing the  appointment  to  any  office  which  is  attended  srith  a  great 
bhare  of  power  or  emolument.  Nothing  is  gained  by  a  popular 
choice  worth  the  dissensions,  tumults,  and  interruption  of  regular 
industry,  with  which  it  is  inseparably  attended.  Add  to  this,  that 
a  king  who  owes  his  elevation  to  the  event  of  a  contest,  or  to  any- 
other  cause  than  a  fixed  rule  of  succession,  will  be  apt  to  regard 
one  part  of  his  subjects  as  the  associates  of  his  fortune,  and  the 
other  as  conquered  foes.  Nor  should  H  be  forgotten,  amongst  the 
advantages  of  an  hereditary  monarchy,  (hat,  as  plans  of  national 
improvement  and  reform  are  seldom  brought  to  maturity  by  the 
exertions  of  a  single  reign,  a  nation  cannot  attain  to  the  degree  of 
happiness  and  prosperity  to  which  it  is  capable  of  being  carried, 
unless  an  uniformity  of  counsels,  a  consistency  of  public  measures 
and  designs,  be  continued  through  a  succession  of  ages.  This  be- 
nefit of  a  consistent  scheme  of  government  may  be  expected  with 


or  GOVERNMENT.  261 

greater  probability  where  the  supreme  power  descends  in  the  same 
race,  and  where  each  prince  succeeds,  in  some  sort,  to  the  aim, 
pursuits,  and  disposition  of  his  ancestor,  than  if  the  crown,  at  evert 
change,  devolve  upon  a  stranger,  whose  first  care  will  commonly 
be  to  pull  down  what  his  predecessor  had  built  up,  and  to  substitute 
systems  of  administration  which  must,  in  their  turn,  give  way  to 
the  more  favourite  novelties  of  the  next  successor. 

ARISTOCRACIES  are  of  two  kinds. — First,  Where  the  power  01 
ihe  nobility  belongs  to  them  in  their  collective  capacity  alone;  that, 
is,  where,  although  the  government  reside  in  an  assembly  of  the  or- 
der, yet  the  members  of  that  assembly  separately  and  individually 
possess  no  authority  or  privilege  beyond  the  rest  of  the  community  ; 
—this  describes  the  constitution  of  Venice.  Secondly,  Where  the 
nobles  are  severally  invested  with  great  personal  power  and  immu- 
nities, and  where  the  power  of  the  senate  is  little  more  than  the  ag- 
gregated power  of  the  individuals  who  compose  it: — this  is  the 
constitution  of  Poland.  Of  these  two  forms  of  government,  the  first 
is  more  tolerable  than  the  last ;  for,  although  the  members  of  a  se- 
nate should  many,  or  even  all  of  them,  be  profligate  enough  to 
abuse  the  authority  of  their  stations  in  the  prosecution  of  private 
designs,  yet,  not  being  all  under  a  temptation  to  the  same  injustice, 
not  having  all  the  same  end  to  gain,  i^.  would  still  be  difficult  to  ob- 
tain the  consent  of  a  majority  to  a'ny  specific  act  of  oppression 
which  the  iniquity  of  an  individual  might  prompt  him  to  propose  : 
or,  if  the  will  were  the  same,  the  power  is  more  confined  ;  one  ty- 
rant, whether  the  tyranny  reside  in  a  single  person  or  a  senate, 
cannot  exercise  oppression  at  so  many  places  at  the  same  time,  as 
it  may  be  carried  on  by  the  dominion  of  a  numerous  nobility  over 
their  respective  vassals  and  dependants.  Of  all  species  of  domina- 
tion, this  is  the  most  odious;  the  freedom  and  satisfaction  of  private 
life  are  more  constrained  and  harassed  by  it  than  by  the  most  vex 
atious  laws,  or  even  by  the  lawless  will  of  an  arbitrary  monarch, 
from  whose  knowledge,  and  from  whose  injustice,  the  greatest  par), 
of  his  subjects  are  removed"  by  their  distance,  or  concealed  by 
their  obscurity. 

Europe  exhibits  more  than  one  modern  example,  where  the 
people,  aggrieved  by  the  exactions,  or  provoked  by  the  enormities, 
nf  their  immediate  superiors,  have  joined  with  the  reigning  prince 
in  the  overthrow  of  the  aristocracy,  deliberately  exchanging  their 
condition  for  the  miseries  of  despotism.  About  the  middle  of  the 
last  century,  the  commons  of  Denmark,  weary  of  the  oppression^ 
which  they  had  long  suffered  from  the  nobles,  and  exasperated  by 
some  recent  insults,  presented  themselves  at  the  foot  of  the  throm 
23 


262  GIT    GOVERNMENT. 

with  a  formal  offer  of  their  consent  to  establish  unlimited  dominion 
in  the  king.  The  revolution  in  Sweden,  still  more  lately  brought 
about  with  the  acquiescence,  not  to  say  the  assistance,  of  the  peo- 
ple, owed  its  success  to  the  same  cause,  namely,  to  the  prospect  of 
deliverance  that  it  afforded  from  the  tyranny  which  their  nobles 
exercised  under  the  old  constitution.  In  England,  the  people  be- 
held the  depression  of  the  barons,  under  the  house  of  Tudor,  with 
satisfaction,  although  they  saw  the  crown  ascending  thereby  to  a 
height  of  power  which  no  limitations  that  the  constitution  had  then 
provided  were  likely  to  confine.  The  lesson  to  be  drawn  from 
such  events  is  this,  that  a  mixed  government,  which  admits  a  pa- 
trician order  into  its  constitution,  ought  to  circumscribe  the  per- 
sonal privileges  of  the  nobility,  especially  claims  of  hereditary  ju- 
risdiction and  local  authority,  with  a  jealousy  equal  to  the  solicitude 
with  which  it  provides  for  its  own  preservation ;  for,  nothing  so  ali- 
enates the  minds  of  the  people  from  the  government  under  which 
(hey  live,  by  a  perpetual  sense  of  annoyance  and  inconveniency. 
or  so  prepares  them  to  the  practices  of  an  enterprising  prince  or  n 
factious  demagogue,  as  the  abuse  which  almost  always  accompa- 
nies the  existence  of  separate  immunities. 

Amongst  the  inferior,  but  by  no  means  inconsiderable  advantage1 
of  a  DEMOCRATIC  constitution,  or  of  a  constitution  in  which  the  peo- 
ple partake  of  the  power  of  legislation,  the  following  should  not  be 
neglected  : — 

I.  The  direction  which  it  gives  to  the  education,  studies,  and 
pursuits  of  the  superior  orders  of  the  community.  The  share  which 
this  has  in  forming  the  public  manners  and  national  character,  is 
very  important.  In  countries  in  which  the  gentry  are  excluded 
from  all  concern  in  the  government,  scarcely  any  thing  is  lef( 
which  leads  to  advancement,  but  the  profession  of  arms.  They 
who  do  not  addict  themselves  to  this  profession  (and  miserable 
must  that  country  be,  which  constantly  employs  the  military  ser- 
vice of  a  great  proportion  of  any  order  of  its  subjects  !)  arc  com- 
monly lost  by  the  mere  want  of  object  and  destination  ;  that  is,  they 
fall,  without  reserve,  into  the  most  sottish  habits  of  animal  gratifi- 
cation, or  entirely  devote  themselves  to  the  attainment  of  those  fu- 
tile arts  and  decorations  which  compose  the  business  and  recom- 
mendation of  a  court :  on  the  other  hand,  where  the  whole,  or  any 
effective  portion  of  civil  power  is  possessed  by  a  popular  assembly, 
more  serious  pursuits  will  be  encouraged  ;  purer  morals,  and  n 
more  intellectual  character,  will  engage  the  public  esteem  ;  those 
faculties  which  qualify  men  for  deliberation  and  debate,  and  which 
arc  the  fruit  of  sober  habits,  of  early  and  long-continued 


OP   GOVERNMENt.  ~^ 

lion,  will  be  roused  and  animated  by  the  reward,  which,  of  all 
others,  most  readily  awakens  the  ambition  of  the  human  mind — po- 
litical dignity  and  importance. 

II.  Popular  elections  procure  to  the  common  people  courtesy 
from  their  superiors.     That  contemptuous  and  overbearing  inso- 
lence, with  which  the  lower  orders  of  the  community  are  wont  to 
be  treated  by  the  higher,  is  greatly  mitigated  where  the  people 
have  something  to  give.     The  assiduity  with  which  their  favour  is 
sought  upon  these  occasions,  serves  to  generate  settled  habits  oi 
condescension  and  respect ;  and  as  human  life  is  more  embittered 
by  affronts  than  injuries,  whatever  contributes  to  procure  -mildness 
and  civility  of  manners'towards  those  who  are  most  liable  to  suffer 
from  a  contrary  behaviour,  corrects  with  the  pride,  in  a  great  mea- 
sure, the  evil  of  inequality,  and  deserves  to  be  accounted  amongst 
the  most  generous  institutions  of  social  life. 

III.  The  satisfaction  which  the  people  in  free  governments  derive 
irom  the  knowledge  and  agitation  of  political  subjects ;  such  as  the 
proceedings  and  debates  of  the  senate  ;  the  conduct  and  character 
of  ministers ;  the  revolutions,  intrigues,  and  contentions  of  parties : 
and,  in  general,  from  the  discussion  of  public  measures,  questions, 
and  occurrences.     Subjects  of  this  sort  excite  just  enough  of  inte- 
rest and  emotion  to  afford  a  moderate  engagement  to  the  thoughts, 
without  rising  to  any  painful  degree  of  anxiety,  or  ever  leaving  a 
fixed  oppression  upon  the  spirits  : — and  what  is  this,  but  the  aim 
and  end  of  all  those  amusements,  which  compose  so  much  of  the: 
business  of  life  and  of  the  value  of  riches  ?  For  my  part  (and  I  be- 
lieve it  to  be  the  case  with  most  men  who  are  arrived  at  the  middle- 
age,  and  occupy  the  middle  classes  of  life,)  had  I  all  the  money 
which  I  pay  in  taxes  to  government,  at  liberty  to  lay  out  upon 
amusement  and  diversion,  I  know  not  whether  I  could  make  choice 
of  any  in  which  I  should  find  greater  pleasure  than  what  I  receive 
from  expecting,  hearing,  and  relating  public  news ;  reading  parlia- 
mentary debates  and  proceedings  ;  canvassing  the  political  argu- 
ments, projects,  predictions,  and  intelligence,  which  are  conveyed, 
by  various  channels,  to  every  corner  of  the  kingdom.  These  topics, 
exciting  universal  curiosity,  and  being  such  as  almost  every  man  is 
ready  to  form  and  prepared  to  deliver  an  opinion  about,  greatly 
promote,  and,  I  think,  improve  conversation.    They  render  it  more 
rational  and  more  innocent ;  they  supply  a  substitute  for  drinking, 
gaming,  scandal,  and  obscenity.     Now,  the  secrecy,  the  jealousy, 
the  solitude,  and  precipitation  of  despotic  governments,  exclude  all 
this.      But  the  loss,  you  say,  is  trifling.      I  know  that  it  is  possible 

•   to  render  even  the  mention  of  it  ridiculous,  by  representing  it  a' 


.64  OS    GOVERNMENT. 

Ihe  idle  employment  of  the  most  insignificant  part  of  the  nation 
ihe  folly  of  village-statesmen  and  coffee-house  politicians :  but  I  al- 
low nothing  to  be  a  trifle  which  ministers  to  the  harmless  gratifies 
lion  of  multitudes ;  nor  any  order  of  men  to  be  insignificant,  whose 
number  bears  a  respectable  proportion  to  the  sum  of  the  whol< 
•,-ommunity. 

We  have  been  accustomed  to  an  opinion,  that  a  REPUBLICAN 
ibrzn  of  government  suits  only  with  the  affairs  of  a  small  state  : 
which  opinion  is  founded  in  the  consideration,  that  unless  the  peo- 
ple, in  every  district  of  the  empire,  be  admitted  to  a  share  in  the  na- 
tional representation,  the  government  is'not,  as  to  them,  a  repub- 
lic ;  that  elections,  where  the  constituents  <ire  numerous,  and  dis- 
persed through  a  wide  extent  of  country,  are  conducted  with  diffi- 
culty, or  rather,  indeed,  managed  by  the  intrigues  and  combination 
of  a  few,  who  arc  situated  near  the  place  of  election,  each. voter 
considering  his  single  suffrage  as.  too  minute  a  portion  of  the  gener- 
al interest  to  deserve  his  care  or  attendance,  much  less  to  be  worth 
any  opposition  to  influence  and  application  ;  that  whilst  we  con- 
•'ract  the  representation  within  a  compass  small  enough  to  admit  of 
orderly  debate,  the  interest  of  the  constituent  becomes  too  small,  of 
'he  representative  too  great.  It  is  difficult  also  to  maintain  any 
connexion  between  them.  He  who  represents  two  hundred  thou- 
•and,  is  necessarily  a  stranger  to  the  greatest  part  of  those  who  elect 
him ;  and  when  Ins  interest  amongst  them  ceases  to  depend  upon 
an  acquaintance  with  their  persons  and  character,  or  care  and 
knowledge  of  their  affairs ;  when  such  a  representative  finds  the 
i.reasures  and  honours  of  a  great  empire  at  the  disposal  of  a  few. 
and  himself  one  of  the  few,  there  is  little  reason  to  hope  that  hr 
will  not  prefer  to  his  public  duty  those  temptations  of  personal 
iggrandizemcnt  which  his  situation  offers,  and  which  the  price  o) 
his  vote  will  always  purchase.  All  appeal  to  the  people  is  preclu- 
ded by  the  impossibility  of  collecting  a  sufficient  proportion  of  their 
:brce  and  numbers.  The  factions  and  the  unanimity  of  the  senate 
ire  equally  dangerous.  Add  to  these  considerations,  that  in  a 
democratic  constitution  the  mechanism  is  too  complicated,  and  thr 
(.he  motions  too  slow,  for  the  operations  of  a  great  empire ;  whoso 
lefence  and  government  require  execution  and  despatch,  in  pro- 
portion to  the  magnitude,  extent^  and  variety  of  its  interests  and 
concerns.  There  is  weight,  no  doubt,  in  these  reasons;  but  much 
uf  the  objection  seems  to  be  done  away  by  the  contrivance  of  n 
J'odcral  republic,  which,  distributing  the  country  into  districts  of  :i 
commodious  extent,  and  leaving  .to  each  district  its  internal  legis- 
lation, reserves  to  a  convention,  of  the  states  the  adjustment  of  their 


THE    BRITISH    CONSTITUTION.  2bo 

relative  claims  ;  the  levying,  direction,  and  government  to  the 
common  force  of  the  confederacy  ;  the  requisition  of  subsidies  for 
the  support  of  this  force  ;  the  making  of  peace  and  war ;  the  enter- 
ing into  treaties ;  the  regulation  of  foreign  commerce ;  the  equali- 
zation of  duties  upon  imports,  so  as  to  prevent  the  defrauding  of 
the  revenue  of  one  province  by  smuggling  articles  of  taxation  from 
the  borders  of  another ;  and  likewise,  so  as  to  guard  against  undue 
partialities  in  the  encouragement  of  trade.  To  what  limits  such  a 
republic  might,  without  inconveniency,  enlarge  its  dominions,  by 
assuming  neighbouring  provinces  into  the  confederation  ;  or  how 
far  it  is  capable  of  uniting  the  liberty  of  a  small  cormjionwealth 
with  the  safety  of  a  powerful  empire ;  or  whether,  amongst  co-or- 
dinate powers,  dissensions  and  jealousies  would  not  be  likely  to 
arise,  which,  for  wan,t  of  a  common  superior,  might  proceed  to  fatal 
extremities,  are  questions,  upon  which  the  records  of  mankind  do 
not  authorize  us  to  decide  with  tolerable  certainty.  The  experi 
mcnt  is  about  to  be  tried  in  America  upon  a  large  scale. 


CHAPTER    VIZ. 

OF  THE  BRITISH  CONSTITUTION. 

Bv  the  CONSTITUTION  of  a  country,  is  meant,  so  much  of  its 
law,  as  relates  to  the  designation  and  form  of  the  legislature  ;  the 
rights  and  functions  of  the  several  parts  of  the  legislative  body  ; 
the  construction,  office,  and  jurisdiction  of  courts  of  justice.  The 
constitution  is  one  principal  division,  section,  or  title,  of  the  code 
of  public  laws ;  distinguished  from  the  rest  only  by  the  superior  im- 
portance of  the  subject  of  which  it  treats.  Therefore  the  terms  con- 
stitutional and  unconstitutional,  mean  legal  and  illegal.  The  dis- 
tinction and  ideas  which  these  terms  denote,  are  founded  in  the 
same  authority  with  the  law  of  the  land  upon  any  other  subject ; 
and  to  be  ascertained  by  the  same  inquiries.  In  England,  the  sys- 
tem of  public  jurisprudence  is  made  up  of  acts  of  parliament,  of 
decisions  of  courts  of  law,  one  of  immemorial  usages :  consequent- 
ly, these  are  the  principles  of  which  the  English  constitution  itself 
consists,  the  sources  frcm  which  all  our  knowledge  of  its  nature 
and  limitations  is  to  be  deduced,  and  the  authorities  to  which  all 
appeal  ought  to  be  made,  and  by  which  every  constitutional  doubt 
and  question  can  alone  be  decided.  This  plain  and  intelligible  de- 
Anition  is  the  more  necessary  to  be  preserved  in  our  thoughts,  as 
some  writers  upon  the  subject  absurdly  confound  what  is  constitu- 
23* 


*6G  THE    BRITISH    CONSTITUTION. 

iional  with  what  is  expedient  ;  pronouncing  forthwith  a  measure 
to  be  unconstitutional,  which  they  adjudge  in  any  respect  to  be 
detrimental  or  dangerous;  whilst"  others,  again,  ascribe  a  kino 
of  transcendent  authority,  or  mysterious  sanctity,  to  the  constitu- 
tion, as  if  it  was  founded  on  some  higher  original  than  that  which 
;jives  force  and  obligation  to  the  ordinary  laws  and  statutes  of  the 
jrealm,  or  were  inviolable  on  any  other  account  than  its  intrinsic 
•-utility.  An  act  of  parliament  in  England  can  never  be  unconsti- 
tutional, in  the  strict  and  proper  acceptation  of  the  term  ;  in  a  lower 
.•sense  it  may,  viz.  when  it  militates  with  the  spirit,  contradicts  the 
analogy,  oV  defeats  the  provision  of  other  laws,  made  to  regulate 
the  form  of  government.  Even  that  flagitious  abuse  of  their  trust, 
by  which  a  parliament  of  Henry  the  Eighth  conferred  upon  the 
king's  proclamation  the  authority  of  law,  was  unconstitutional  on- 
ly in  this  latter  sense. 

Most  of  those  who  treat  of  the  British  constitution,  consider  it  a? 
.'.i  scheme  of  government  formally  planned  and  contrived  by  our  an- 
cestors in  some  certain  acra  of  our  national  history,  and  as  set  up 
xn  pursuance  of  such  regular  plan  and  design.  Something  of  this 
sort  is  secretly  supposed,  or  referred  to,  in  the  expressions  of  those 
who  speak  of  the  "  principles  of  the  constitution,"  of  bringing  back 
the  constitution  to  its  "  first  principles,"  of  restoring  it  to  its  "  ori- 
••'  ginal  purity,"  or  "  primitive  model."  <Now,  this  appears  to  me 
an  erroneous  conception  of  the  subject.  No  such  plan  was  ever 
/ormed,  consequently  no  such  first  principles,  original  model,  01 
.standard,  exist  :  I  mean,  there  never  was  a  date  or  point  of  time 
:in  our  history,  when  the  government  of  England  was  to  be  set  up 
anew,  and  when  it  was  referred  to  any  single  person,  or  assembly, 
or  commitee,  to  frame  a  charter  for  the  future  government  of  the 
country  ;  or  when  a  constitution  so  prepared  and  digested,  was  by 
common  consent  received  and  established.  In  the  time  of  the  civ- 
il wars,  or -rather  between  the  death  of  Charles  the  First  and  the 
.restoration  of  his  son,  many  such  projects  were  published,  but  none 
were  carried  into  execution.  The  great  Charter  and  the  Bill  of 
Rights,  were  wise  and  strenuous  efforts  to  obtain  security  against 
certain  abuses  of  regal  power,  by  which  the  subject  had  been  for- 
merly aggrieved;  but  these  were,  either  of  them,  much  too  partial 
modifications  of  the  constitution,  to  give  it  a  new  original.  The  con- 
stitution of  England,  like  that  of  most  countries  in  Europe,  hath 
jrown  out  of  occasion  and  emergency ;  from  the  various  policy  oi 
different  ages ;  from  the  contentions,  successes,  interests,  and  oppor- 
tunities of  different  orders  and  parties  of  men  in  the  community.  It 
resembles  one  of  those  old  mansions,  which  instead  of  being  built' 


THE   BRITISH   COXSTITUTIOIT 

nil  at  once,  after  a  regular  plan,  and  actor-ding  to  the  rules  of  archi- 
tecture at  present  established,  has  been  reared  in  different  ages  of 
the  art,  has  been  altered  from  time  to  time,  and  has.  been  contin- 
ually receiving1  additions  and  repairs  suited  to  the  taste,  fortune, 
or  conveniency  of  its  successive  proprietors.  In  such  a  building-. 
we  look  in  vain  for  the  elegance  and  proportion,  for  the  just  order 
and  correspondence  of  parts,  which  we  expect  in  a  modern  edifice  .- 
and  which  external  symmetry,  after  all  contributes  much  more 
perhaps  to  the  amusement  of  the  beholder,  than  the  accommoda- 
tion of  the  inhabitant. 

In  the  British,  and  possibly  all  other  constitutions,  there  exists  a 
wide  difference  between  the  actual  state  of  the  government  and 
the  theory.  The  one  results  from  the  other ;  but  still  they  are  dif- 
ferent. When  we  contemplate  the  theory  of  the  British  govern- 
ment, we  see  the  king1  invested  with  the  most  absolute  personal 
impunity ;  with  a  power  of  rejecting  laws  which  have  been  resolv- 
ed upon  by  both  houses  of  parliament;  of  conferring  by  his  char- 
ter, upon  any  set  or  succession  of  men  he  pleases,  the  privilege  of 
sending'  representatives  into  one  house  of  parliament,  as  by  his  im- 
mediate appointment  he  can  place  whom  he  will  in  the  other. 
What  is  this,  a  foreigner  might  ask,  but  a  more  circuitous  despot- 
ism'1 Yet,  when  we  turn  our  attention  from  the  legal  existence, 
to  the  actual  exercise  of  royal  authority  in  England,  we  see  these 
formidable  prerogatives  dwindled  into  mere  ceremonies ;  and,  in 
their  stead,  a  sure  and. commanding-  influence,  of  which  the  consti- 
tution, it  seems,  is  totally  ignorant,  growing  out  of  that  enormous 
patronage,  which  the  increased  extent  and  opulence  of  the  em- 
pire lias  placed  in  the  disposal  of  the  executive  magistrate. 

Upon  questions  of  reform,  the  habit  of  reflection  to  be  encou- 
raged, is  a  sober  comparison  of  the  constitution  under  which  we 
live,  not  with  models  of  speculative  perfection,  but  with  the  actual 
chance  of  obtaining  a  better.  This  turn  of  thought  will  generate 
a  political  disposition,  equally  removed  from  that  puerile  admira- 
tion of  present  establishments,  which  sees  no  fault,  and  can  endure 
no  change,  and  that  distempered  sensibility,  which  is  alive  only  to 
perceptions  of  inconvenicncy,  and  is  too  impatient  to  be  delivered 
from  the  uneasiness  which  it  feels,  to  compute  either  the  peril  or 
expense  of  the  remedy.  Political  innovations  commonly  produce 
many  effects  beside  those  that  are  intended.  The  direct  conse- 
quence is  often  the  least  important.  Incidental,  remote,  and  un- 
thought  of  evils  or  advantages,  frequently  exceed  the  good  that  i* 
designed,  or  the  inconveniency  that  is  foreseen.  It  is  from  the  si- 
lent and  unobserved  operation,  from  the  obscure  progress  of  causes 


208  THE   BRITISH   CONSTITUTION. 

set  at  work  for  different  purposes,  that  the  greatest  revolutions  talu 
their  rise.    When  Elizabeth,  and  her  immediate  successor,  applied 
themselves  to  the  encouragement  and  regulation  of  trade  by  many 
wise  laws,  they  knew  not  that,  together  with  wealth  and  industry, 
they  were  diffusing  a  consciousness  of  strength  and  independency, 
which  would  not  long  endure,  under  the  forms  of  a  mixed  govern- 
ment, the  dominion  of  arbitrary  princes.     When  it  was  debated 
whether  the  mutiny-act,  the  law  by  which  the  army  is  governed 
and  maintained,  should  be  temporary  or  perpetual,  little  else  pro- 
bably occurred  to  the  advocates  of  an  annual  bill  than  the  expedi- 
ency of  retaining  a  control  over  the  most  dangerous  prerogative  of 
the  crown — the  direction  and  command  of  a  standing  army  ;  where- 
as, in  effect,  this  single  reservation  has  altered  the  whole  frame 
and  quality  of  the  British  constitution.     For  since,  in  consequence 
of  the  military  system  which  prevails  in  neighbouring  and  rival  na- 
tions, as  well  as  on  account  of  the  internal  exigencies  of  govern- 
ment, a  standing  army  has  become  essential  to  the  safety  and  ad- 
ministration of  the  empire,  it  enables  parliament,  by  discontinuing 
this  necessary  provision,  so  to  enforce  its  resolutions  upon  any  oth- 
er subject,  as  to  render  the  king's  dissent  to  a  law,  which  has  re- 
ceived the  approbation  of  both  houses,  too  dangerous  an  experi- 
ment any  longer  to  be  advised.     A  contest  between  the  king  and 
parliament   cannot  now  be  persevered  in  without  a  dissolution  oi' 
the  government.     Lastly,  when  the  constitution   conferred  upon 
the  crown  the  nomination  to  all  employments  in  the  public  service, 
the  authors  of  this  arrangement  were  led  to  it,  by  the  obvious  pro- 
priety" of  leaving  to  a  master  the  choice  of  his  servants ;  and  by 
the  manifest  inconveniency  of  engaging  the  national  council,  upon 
every  vacancy,  in  those  personal  contests  which  attend  elections  to 
places  of  honour  and  emolument.     Our  ancestors  did  not  observe, 
that  this  disposition  added  an  influence  to  the  regal  office,  which, 
as  the  number  and  value  of  public  employments  increased,  would 
supersede  in  a  great  measure  the  forms,  and  change  the  character 
of  the  ancient  constitution  ;  They  knew  not,  what  the  experience 
and  redaction  of  modern  ages  has  discovered,  that  patronage  uni- 
versally is  power  ;  that  he  who  possesses  in  a  sufficient  degree  the 
means  of  gratifying  the  desires  of  mankind  after  wealth  and  dis- 
tinction, by  whatever  checks  and  forms  his  authority  may  be  limit- 
ed or  disguised,  will  direct  the    management  of  public   affairs. 
Whatever  be  the  mechanism  of  the  political  engine,  he  will  guide 
the  motion.     These  instances  are  adduced  to  illustrate  the  proposi- 
tion we  laid  down,  that,  in  politics,  the  most  important  and  perma- 
nent effects  have,  for  the  most  part,  been  incidental  and  unfore 


THE   BRITISH   CONSTITUTION.  269 

:,een  ;  and  this  proposition  we  inculcate  for  the  sake  of  the  caution 
which  it  teaches,  that  changes  ought  not  to  be  adventured  upon 
without  a  comprehensive  discernment  of  the  consequences, — with- 
out a  knowledge,  as  well  of  the  remote  tendency,  as  of  the  imme- 
diate design.  The  courage  of  a  statesman  should  resemble  that  ot" 
a  commander,  who,  however,  regardless  of  personal  danger,  never 
forgets,  that,  with  his  own,  he  commits  the  lives  and  fortunes  of  a 
multitude ;  and  who  does  not  consider  it  as  any  proof  of  zeal  or 
valour,  to  stake  the  safety  of  other  men  upon  the  success  of  a  pe- 
rilous or  desperate  enterprize. 

There  is  one  end  of  civil  government  peculiar  to  a  good  consti- 
tution, namely,  the  happiness  of  its  subjects  ;  there  is  another  end 
essential  to  a  good  government,  but  common  to  it  with  many  bad 
ones, — its  own  preservation.  Observing  that  the  best  form  of  gov- 
ernment would  be  defective,  which  did  not  provide  for  its  own  per- 
manency, in  our  political  reasonings  we  consider  all  such  provi- 
sions as  expedient ;  and  are  content  to  accept  as  a  sufficient  rea- 
son for  a  measure,  or  law,  that  it  is  necessary  or  conducive  to  the 
preservation  of  the  constitution.  Yet,  in  truth,  such  provisions  are 
absolutely  expedient,  and  such  an  excuse  final,  only  whilst  the  con- 
stitution is  worth  preserving ;  that  is,  until  it  can  be  exchanged 
for  a  better.  I  premise  this  distinction,  because  many  things  in 
the  English,  as  in  every  constitution,  are  to  be  vindicated  and  ac- 
counted for,  solely  from  their  tendency  to  maintain  the  government 
in  its  present  state,  and  the  several  parts  of  it  in  possession  of  the 
powers  which  the  constitution  has  assigned  to  them  :  and  because 
I  would  wish  it  to  be  remarked,  that  such  a  consideration  is  al- 
ways subordinate  to  .another, — the  value  and  usefulness  of  the  con- 
stitution itself. 

The  Government  of  England,  which  has  been  sometimes  called 
a  mixed  government,  sometimes  a  limited  monarch}',  is  formed  bv 
a  combination  of  the  three  regular  species  of  government, — the 
monarchy,  residing  in  the  King  ;  the  aristocracy,  in  the  House 
of  Lords  ;  and  the  republic  being  represented  by  the  House  of 
Commons.  The  perfection  intended  by  such  a  scheme  of  gov- 
ernment is,  to  unite  the  advantages  of  the  several  simple  forms, 
and  to  exclude  the  inconveniences.  To  what  degree  this  purpose 
is  attained,  or  attainable,  in  the  British  constitution,  wherein  it 
is  lost  sight  of  or  neglected  ;  and  by  what  means  it  may  in  an} 
part  be  promoted  with  better  success,  the  reader  will  be  enabled 
to  judge,  by  a  separate  recollection  of  these  advantages  and  in- 
conveniences,  as  enumerated  in  the  preceding  chapter  and  a  dis- 
linct  application  of  each  to  the  political  condition  of  this  country 


270  THE   BRITISH   CONSTITUTION. 

We  will  present  our  remarks  upon  the  subject  in  a  brief  account 
of  the  expedients  by  which  the  British  constitution  provides. — 

1st,  For  the  interest  of  its  subjects. 

<2dly,  .For  its  own  preservation. 

The  contrivances  for  the  first  of  these  purposes  are  the  following 

In  order  to  promote  the  establishment  of  salutary  public  laws,  ev- 
ery citizen  of  the  state  is  capable  of  becoming  a  member  of  the 
senate  ;  and  every  senator  possesses  the  right  of  propounding  to 
the  deliberation  of  the  legislature  whatever  law  he  pleases. 

Every  district  of  the  empire  enjoys  the  privilege  of  choosing  re 
presentatives,  informed  of  the  interests,  and  circumstances,  and  de- 
sires of  their  constituents,  and  entitled  by  their  situation  to  commu- 
nicate that  information  to  the  national  council.  The  meanest  sub- 
ject has  some  one  whom  he  can  call  upon,  to  bring  forward  his  com- 
plaints and  requests  to  public  attention. 

By  annexing  the  right  of  voting  for  members  of  the  House  ot 
Commons  to  different  qualifications  in  different  places,  each  order 
and  profession  of  men  in  the  community  become  virtually  repre 
sented  ;  that  is,  men-of  all  orders  and  professions,  statesmen,  cour- 
tiers, country  gentlemen,  lawyers,  merchants,  manufacturers,,  sol- 
diers, sailors  interested'in  the  prosperity,  and  experienced  in  the  oc- 
cupation of  their  respective  professions,  obtain-  seats  in  parliament. 

The  elections,  at  the  same  lime,  are  so  connected  with  the  influ- 
ence of  landed  property,  as  to  afford  a'certainty  that  a  considerable 
number  of  men  of  great  estates  will  be  returned  to  parliament  ; 
and  are  also  so  modified,  that  men  the  most  eminent  and  success- 
ful in  their  respective  professions,  are  the  most  likely,  by  their  rich- 
es, or  the  weight  of  their  stations  to  prevail  in  these  competitions. 

The  number,  fortune,  and  quality  of  the  members  ;  the  variety 
of  interests  and  characters  amongst  them  ;  above  all  the  tempora- 
ry duration  of  their  power,  and  the  change  of  men  which  ever) 
uew  election  produces,  are  so  many  securities  to  the  public,  a>- 
well  against  the  subjection  of  their  judgments  to  any  external 
dictation,  as  against  the  formation  of  a  junto  in  their  own  body, 
sufficiently  powerful  to  govern  their  decisions. 

The  representatives  are  so  intermixed  with  the  constituents, 
and  the  constituents  with  the  rest  of  the  people,  that  they  cannot, 
without  a  partiality  too  flagrant  to  be  endured,  impose  any  burthen 
upon  the  subject  in  which  they  do  not  share  themselves ;  nor 
scarcely  can  they  adopt  an  advantageous  regulation,  in  which  then- 
own  interests  will  not  participate  of  the  advantage. 

The  proceedings  and  debates  of  parliament,  and  the  parliamentary 
Conduct  of  each  representative,  are  known  by  the  people  at  large. 


THE   BRITISH   CONSTITUTION.  ^Ti 

The  representative  is  so  far  dependent  upon  the  constituent,  and 
political  importance  upon  public  favour,  that  a  senator  most  effec- 
tually recommends  himself  to  eminence  and  advancement  in  the 
state,  by  contriving  and  patronizing  laws  of  public  utility. 

When  intelligence  of  the  condition,  wants,  and  occasions  of  the 
people,  is  thus  collected  from  every  quarter ;  when  such  a  variety 
of  invention,  and  so  many  understandings  are  set  at  work  upon 
the  subject;  it  may  be  presumed,  that  the  most  eligible  expedient, 
remedy,  or  improvement,  will  occur  to  some  one  or  other ;  and 
when  a  wise  counsel^  or  beneficial  regulation  is  once  suggested,  it 
may  be  expected  from  the  disposition  of  an  assembly  so  constitu- 
ted as  the  British  House  of  Commons  is,  that  it  cannot  fail  of  re- 
ceiving the  approbation  of  a  majority. 

To  prevent  those  destructive  contentions  for  the  supreme  power) 
which  are  sure  to  take  place  where  the  members  of  the  state,  do 
not  live  under  an  acknowledged  head,  and  a  known  rule  of  succes- 
sion ;  to  preserve  the  people  in  tranquillity  at  home,  by  a  speedy 
and  vigorous  execution  of  the  laws ;  to  protect  their  interest 
abroad,  by  strength  and  energy  in  military  operations,  by  those  ad- 
vantages of  decision,  secrecy,  land  despatch,  which  belong  to  the 
resolutions  of  monarchical  councils  : — for  these  purposes,  the  con- 
stitution has  committed  the  executive  government  to  the  adminis- 
1  ration  and  limited  authority  of  an  hereditary  king. 

In  the  defence  of  the  empire ;  in  the  maintenance  of  its  power, 
dignity,  and  privileges,  with  foreign  nations  ;  and  in  the  providing 
for  the  general  administration  of  municipal  justice,  by  a  proper 
choice  and  appointment  of  magistrates,  the  inclination  of  the  king 
and  of  the  people  usually  coincide ;  in  this  part,  therefore,  of  the. 
regal  office,  the  constitution  entrusts  the  prerogative  with  ample 
powers 

The  dangers  principally  to  be  apprehended  from  regal  govern- 
ment relate  to  the  two  articles  of  taxation  and  punishment.  In  eve- 
ry form  of  government,  from  which  the  people  are  excluded,  it  is 
the  interest  of  the  governors  to  get  as  much,  and  of  the  governed  to 
give  as  little,  as  they  can ;  the  power  also  of  punishment,  in  the 
hands  of  an  arbitrary  prince,  oftentimes  becomes  an  engine  of  ex- 
tortion, jealousy,  and  revenge.  Wisely,  therefore,  hath  the  Bri- 
tish constitution  guarded  the  safety  of  the  people,  in  these  two  points, 
by  the  most  studious  precautions. 

Upon  that  of  luxation  every  law  which,  by  the  remotest  construc- 
tion, ma^7  be  deemed  to  levy  money  upon  the  property  of  the  sub 
ject,  must  originate,  that  is,  must  first  be  proposed  and  assented  to 
in  the  House  of  Commons :  by  which  regulation,  accompanying 


:272  THE    BRITISH    CONSTITUTION. 

the  weight  which  that  assembly  possesses  in  all  its  functions,  the  ic 
vying  of  taxes  is  almost  exclusively  reserved  to  the  popular  par! 
of  the  constitution,  who,  it  is  presumed,  will  not  lax  themselves, 
nor  their  fellow-subjects  without  being-  first  convinced  of  the  ne 
<ressity  of  the  aids  which  they  grant. 

The  application  also  of  the  public  supplies  is  watched  with  the 
same  circumspection  as  the  assessment.  Many  taxes  are  annual : 
the  produce  of  others  is  mortgaged,  or  appropriated  to  specific  ser- 
vices; the  expenditure  of  ali  of  them  is  accounted  for  to  the  House 
of  Commons  ;  as  computations  of  the  charge  of  the  purpose  for 
which  they  are  wanted,  are  previously  submitted  to  the  same  tri- 
bunal. 

In  the  infliction  of  punishment,  the  power  of  the  crown,  and  ot 
I  he  magistrate  appointed  by  the  crown,  is  confined  by  the  most 
precise  limitations ;  the  guilt  of  the  offender  must  be  pronounced 
by  twelve  men  of  his  own  order,  indifferently  chosen  out  of  the 
county  where  the  offence  was  committed  ;  the  punishment,  or  the 
limits  to  which  the  punishment  may  be  extended,  are  ascertained, 
and  affixed  to  the  crime,  by  laws  which  know  not  the  person  of  the 
criminal. 

And  whereas  the  arbitrary  or -clandestine  seizure  and  confine- 
ment of  the  person  is  the  injury  most  to  be  dreaded  from  the  strong 
hand  of  the  executive  government,  because  it  deprives  the  prison- 
er at  once  of  protection  and  defence,  and  delivers  him  into  the 
power,  and  to  the  malicious  or  interested  designs  of  his  enemies ; 
the  constitution  has'  provided  against  this  danger  with  extreme 
solicitude.  The  ancient  writ  of  habeas-corpus,  the  habeas-corpus 
act  of  Charles  the  Second,  and  the  practice  and  determinations  of 
our  sovereign  courts  of  justice  founded  upon  these,  laws  afford  a 
complete  remedy  for  every  conceivable  case  of  illegal  imprison- 
ment. * 

Treason  being  that  charge,  under  colour  of  which  the  destruc- 
tion of  an  obnoxious  individual  is  often  sought ;  and  government 
being  at  all  times  more  immediately  a  party  in  the  prosecution ; 
(he  law,  beside  the  general  care  with  which  it  watches  over  the 

*  Upon  complaint  in  writing  by,  or  on  behalf  of,  any  person  in  confinement,  to 
any  of  the  four  courts  of  Westminster  Hall,  in  term  time,  or  to  the  Lord  Chancel- 
lor, one  of  the  Judges,  in  the  vacation  ;  anil  upon  a  probable  reason  being  sug- 
gested to  question  the  legality  of  the  detention,  a  writ  is  issued  to  the  person  in 
whose  custody  the  complainant  is  alleged  to  be,  commanding  him  within  a  certain 
limited  and  short  time  to  produce  the  body  of  the  prisoner,  and  the  authority  un- 
der which  he  is  detained.  Upon  the  return  of  the  writ,  strict  and  instantaneous 
obedience  to  which  is  enforced  by  very  severe  penalties,  if  no  lawful  cnuse  of  im- 
prisonment appear,  the  court  or  judge  before  whom  the  prisoner  is  brought,  is  m.1 


THE   BRITISH   CONSTITUTION.  2/J 

safety  of  the  accused,  in  this  case,  sensible  of  the  unequal  contest 
in  which  the  subject  is  engaged,  has  assisted  his  defence  with  ex- 
traordinary indulgences.  Bj-  two  statutes,  enacted  since  the  Re- 
volution, every  person  indicted  for  high  treason  shall  have  a  copy 
of  his  indictment,  a  list  of  the  witnesses  to  be  produced,  and  of  the 
jury  impannelled,  delivered  to  him  ten  days  before  the  trial;  he  is 
also  permitted  to  make  his  defence  by  counsel ; — privileges  which 
are  not  allowed  to  the  prisoner,  in  a  trial  for  any  other  crime  ;  and 
what  is  of  more  importance  to  the  party  than  all  the  rest,  the  tes- 
timony of  two  witnesses,  at  the  least,  is  required  to  convict  a  per- 
son of  treason  ;  whereas,  one  positive  witness  is  sufficient  in  almost 
every  other  species  of  accusation. 

We  proceed,  in  the  second  place^  to  inquire  in  what  manner 
the  constitution  has  provided  for  its  own  preservation  ;  that  is,  in 
what  manner  each  part  of  the  legislature  is  secured  in  the  exer- 
cise of  the  powers  assigned  to  it,  from  the  encroachment  of  the  oth- 
er parts  ;  this  security  is  sometimes  called  the  balance  of  the  con- 
stitution ;  and  the  political  equilibrium,  which  this  phrase  denotes, 
consists  in  two  contrivances  ; — -a  balance  of  power,  and  a  balance 
of  interest.  By  a  balance  of  power  is  meant,  that  there  is  no  pow- 
er possessed  by  one  part  of  the  legislature,  the  abuse  or  excess  ol 
which  is  not  checked  by  some  antagonist  power,  residing  in  an- 
other part.  Thus  the  power  of  the  two  houses  of  parliament  to 
frame  laws,  is  checked  by  the  king's  negative  ;  that,  if  laws  sub- 
versive of  regal  government  should  obtain  the  consent  of  parlia- 
ment, the  reigning  prince,  by  interposing  his  prerogative,  may 
save  the  necessary  rights  and  authority  of  his  station.  On  the  oth- 
er hand,  the  arbitrary  application  of  this  negative  is  checked  by  the 
privilege  which  parliament  possesses,  of  refusing  supplies  of  mo- 
iiey  to  the  exigencies,  of  the  king's  administration.  The  consti- 
tutional maxim,  "  that  the  king  can  do  no  wrong,"  is  balanced  by 
another  maxim,  not  less  constitutional,  "  that  the  illegal  commands 
of  the  king  do  not  justify  those  who  assist,;-_or  concur,  in  carrying 
them  into  execution  :"  and  by  a  second  rule,  subsidiary  to  this, 
:;  that  the  acts  of  the  crown  acquire  not  any  legal  force,  until  au- 

' homed  and  bound  to  discharge  him  ;  even  though  he  may  have  been  committed 
by  a  secretary  or  other  high  officer  of  state,  by  the  privy  council,  or  by  the  kin" 
in  person  :  so  that  no  subject  of  this  realm  can  be  held  in  confinement  by  any  pow- 
er, or  under  any  pretence  whatever,  provided  he  can  find  means  to  convey  his 
i-omplaint  to  one  of  the  four  courts  of  Westminster  Hall,  or  during  their  recess,  to 
any  of  the  judges  of  the  same,  unless  all  these  several  tribunals  agree  in  determin- 
ing his  imprisonment  to  be  legal.  He  may  make  application  to  them  in  succession  ; 
and  if  one  out  of  the  number  be  found,  who  thinks  the  prisoner  entitled  to  lu? 
iiberty,  that  one  possesses  authority  to  restore  it  to  him. 
24 


THE   BRITISH    CONSTITUTION. 

;tthenticated  by  the  subscription  of  some  of  its  great  officers. 
The  wisdom  of  this  contrivance  is  worthy  of  observation.  As  the 
king  could  not  be  punished  without  a  civil  war,  the  constitution 
exempts  his  person  from  trial  or  account ;  but,  lest  this  impunity 
should  encourage  a  licentious  exercise  of  dominion,  various  ob- 
stacles are  opposed  to  the  private  will  of  the  sovereign,  when  di- 
rected to  illegal  objects.  The  pleasure  of  the  crown  must  be  an- 
nounced with  certain  solemnities,  and  attested  by  certain  officers  of 
state.  In  some  cases,  the  royal  order  must  be  signified  by  a  secre- 
tary of  state;  in  others,  it  must  pass  under  the  privy  seal;  and  in 
many,  under  the  great  seal.  And  when  the  king's  command  is 
regularly  published,  no  mischief  can  be  achieved  by  it,  without  the 
ministry  and  compliance  of  thpse  to  whom  it  is  directed.  Now  all 
who  either  concur  in  an  illegal  order,  by  authenticating  its  publi- 
cation with  their  seal  or  subscription,  or  who  assist  in  carrying  it 
into  execution,  subject  themselves  to  prosecution  and  punishment 
for  the  part  they  have  taken ;  and  are  not  permitted  to  plead  or 
produce  the  command  of  the  king,  in  justification  of  their  obedi- 
ence.* And,  that  the  crown  may  not  protect  its  servants  in  a 
criminal  submission  to  their  master's  desires,  by  the  power  which 
in  general  belongs  to  its  authority,  of  pardoning  offences,  and  of 
remitting  the  sentence  of  the  law  prosecutions  by  impeachment, 
which  is  the  usual  way  of  proceeding  against  offenders  of  this  sort, 
are  excepted  out  of  that  prerogative.  But  further  ;  the  power  of 
the  crown  to  direct  the  military  force  of  the  kingdom,  is  balanced 
by  the  annual  necessity  of  resorting  to  parliament  for  the  mainte- 
nance and  government  of  that  force.  The  power  of  the  king  to 
declare  war,  is  checked  by  the  privilege  of  the  House  of  Commons 
to  grant  or  withhold  the  supplies  by  which  the  war.  must  be  car- 
ried on.  The  king's  choice  of  his  ministers  is  controlled  by  the 
obligation  he  is  under  of  appointing  those  men  to  offices  in  the 
state,  who  are  found  capable  of  managing  the  affairs  of  his  gov 
ernment,  with  the  two  houses  of  parliament.  Which  consideration 
imposes  such  a  necessity  upon  the  crown,  as  hath  in  a  great  mea- 
sure subdued  the  influence  of  favouritism  ;  insomuch  that  it  is  be- 

*  Amongst  the  checks  which  parliament  hold  over  the  administration  of  public 
uftairs,  I  forbear  to  mention  the  practice  of  addressing  the  king,  to  know  by  whose 
advice  he  resolved  upon  a  particular  measure  ;  and  of  punishing  the  authors  of 
that  advice  for  the  counsel  they  had  given.  Not  because.I  think  this  method  either 
unconstitutional  or  improper  ;  but  for  this  reason— that  it  does  not  so  much  sub- 
ject the  king  to  the  control  of  parliament,  as  it  supposes  him  to  be  already  in  sub 
jection.  For  if  the  king  were  so  far  out  of  the  reach  of  the  resentment  of  tho 
House  of  Commons,  as  to  be  able  with  safety  to  refuse  the  information  requested, 
or  to  take  upon  himself  the  responsibility  inquired  after,  there  must  be  an  ond  o> 
all  proceedings  founded  in  this  mode  of  application. 


THE   BRITISH   COXSTITTJTIOX.  27y 

come  no  uncommon  spectacle  in  this  country,  to  see  men  promo- 
ted by  the  king  to  the  highest  offices  and  richest  preferments  which 
lie  has  in  his  power  to  bestow,  who  have  been  distinguished  by  their 
opposition  to  his  personal  inclinations. 

By  the  balance  of  interest,  which  accompanies  and  gives  effica- 
cy of  the  balance  of  power,  is  meant  this : — that  the  respective  in- 
terests to  the  three  states  of  the  empire  are  so  disposed  and  adjust- 
ed, that  whichever  of  the  three  shall  attempt  any  encroachment; 
the  other  two  will  unite  in  resisting  it.  If  the  king  should  endea- 
vour to  extend  his  authority,  by  contracting  the  power  and  privi- 
leges of  the  Commons,  the  House  of  Lords  would  see  their  own 
dignity  endangered  by  every  advance  which  the  cfrown  made  to 
independency  upon  the  resolutions  of  parliament.  The  admission 
of  arbitrary  power  is  no  less  formidable  to  the  grandeur  of  the  aris- 
tocracy than  it  is  fatal  to  the  liberty  of  the  republic ;  that  is,  it 
would  reduce  the  nobility  from  the  hereditary  share  they  possess  in 
the  national  councils,  in  which  their  real  greatness  consists,  to  the 
being  made  a  part  of  the  empty  pageantry  of  a  despotic  court. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  the  House  of  Commons  should  intrench  upon 
the  distinct  province,  or  usurp  the  established  prerogative  of  the 
crown,  the  House  of  Lords  would  receive  an  instant  alarm  from 
every  new  stretch  of  popular  power.  In  every  contest  in  which 
the  king  may  be  engaged  with  the  representative  body,  in  defence 
of  his  established  share  of  authority,  he  wil^ftnd  a  sure  ally  in  the 
collective  power  of  the  nobility. 

An  attachment  to  the  monarchy,  from  which  they  derive  their 
own  distinction ;  the  allurements  of  a  cofurt,  in  the  habits  and  with 
the  sentiments  of  which  they  have  been  brought  up  ;  their  hatred 
of  equality,  and  of  all  levelling  pretensions  which  may  ultimately 
affect  the  privileges,  or  even  the  existence  of  their  order  ;  in  short 
every  principle  and  every  prejudice  which  are  wont  to  actuate  hu- 
man conduct,  will  determine  their  choice  to  the  side  and  support  of 
the  crown.  Lastly,  if  the  nobles  themselves  should  attempt  to  re- 
vive the  superiorities  which  their  ancestors  exercised  under  the 
feudal  constitution,  the  king  and  the  people  would  alike  remember, 
how  the  one  had  been  insulted,  and  the  other  enslaved,  by  that  bar- 
barous tyranny.  They  would  forget  the  natural  opposition  of  their 
views  and  inclinations,  when  they  saw  themselves  threatened  with 
a  return  of  a  domination,  which,  was  odious  and  intolerable  to  both. 

The  reader  will  have  observed,  that  in  describing  the  British 
constitution,  little  notice  has  been  taken  of  the  House  of  Lords. 
The  proper  use  and  design  of  this  part  of  the  constitution,  are  the 
following  :  First  to  enable  the  king,  by  his  right  of  bestowing  the 


2*6  THE   BRITISH    COKSTITtfTIOjS* 

peerage,  to  reward  the  servants  of  the  public,  in  a  manner  mob* 
grateful  to  them,  and  at  a  small  expense  to  the  nation;  secondly. 
To  fortify  the  power  and  to  secure  the  stability  of  regal  govern- 
ment, by  an  order  of  men  naturally  allied  to  its  interest ;  and,  third 
ly,  To  answer  a  purpose  which  though  of  superior  importance  to 
the  other  two,  does  not  occur  so  readily  to  our  observations ;  name- 
ly, to  stem  the  progress  of  popular  fury.  Large  bodies  of  men  arc 
subject  to  sudden  phrensies.  Opinions  are  sometimes .  circulated 
amongst  a  multitude  without  proof  or  examination,  acquiring  con- 
fidence and  reputation  merely  by  being  repeated  from  one  to  ano 
ther;  and  passions  founded  upon  these  opinions,  diffusing  them 
selves  with  a  sapidity  that  can  neither  be  accounted  for  nor  resis- 
ted, may  agitate  a  country  with  the  most  violent  commotions.  Now; 
the  only  way  to  stop  the  fermentation,  is  to  divide  the  mass  ;  that 
is,  to  erect  different  orders  in  the  community,  with  separate  pre- 
judices and  interests.  And  this  may  occasionally  become  the  use  oi 
an  hereditary  nobility,  invested  with  a  share  of  legislation.  Averse 
to  the  prejudices  which  actuate  the  minds  of  the  vulgar ;  accustomed 
to  contemn  the  clamour  of  the  populace ;  disdaining  to  receive 
laws  and  opinions  from  their  inferiors  in  rank,  they  will  oppose 
resolutions  which  are  founded  in  the  folly  and  violence  of  the  low- 
er  part  of  the  community.  Was  the  voice  of  the  people  always 
dictated  by  reflection ;  did  every  man,  or  even  one  man  in  a  hun- 
dred, think  for  himseK  or  actually  consider  the  measure  he  was 
about  to  approve  or  censure ;  or  even  were  the  common  people 
tolerably  steadfast  in  the  judgment  which  they  formed,  I  should 
hold  the  interference  of  a  superior  order  not  only  superfluous  but 
wrong ;  for  when  every  thing  is  allowed  to  difference  of  rank  ami 
education,  which  the  actual  state  of  these  advantages  deserves,  that, 
after  all,  is  most  likely  to  be  right  and  expedient,  which  appears  to 
be  so  to  the  separate  judgment  and  decision  of  a  great  majority  oi 
the  nation  ;  at  least,  that,  in  general,  is  right  for  them,  which  i- 
,igreeable  to  their  fixed  opinions  and  desires.  But  when  we  ob- 
serve what  is  urged  as  the  public  opinion,  to  be,  in  truth,  the  opin- 
ion only,  or  perhaps  the  feigned  profession,  of  a  few  crafty  leaders ; 
(hat  the  numbers  who  join  in  the  cry,  serve  only  to  swell  and  mul- 
tiply the  sound,  without  any  accession  of  judgment,  or  exercise 
of  understanding;  and  that  oftentimes  the  wisest  counsels  have 
been  thus  overborne  by  tumult  and  uproar; — we  may  conceive 
occasions  to  arise,  in  which  the  commonwealth  may  be  saved  by  the 
reluctance  of  the  nobility  to  adopt  caprices,  or  to  yield  to  the  ve- 
hemence of  the  common  people.  In  expecting  this  advantage  from 
.m  order  of  nobles,  we  do  not  suppose  the  nobility  to  be  more  un- 


THE    BRITISH    CONSTITUTION.  277 

prejudiced  than  others;  we  only  suppose  that  their  prejudices  will 
be  different  from,  and  may  occasionally  counteract  those  of  others. 

If  the  personal  privileges  of  the  peerage,  which  are  usually  so 
many  injuries  to  the  rest  of  the  community,  be  restrained,  I  see  lit- 
tle inconvemency  in  the  increase  of  its  number :  for,  it  is  only 
dividing  the  same  quantity  of  power  amongst  more  hands,  which  is 
rather  favourable  to  public  freedom  than  otherwise. 

The  admission  of  a  small  number  of  ecclesiastics  into  the  House 
of  Lords,  is  but  an  equitable  compensation  to  the  clergy  for  the 
exclusion  of  their  order  from  the  House  of  Commotas.  They  are 
a  set  of  men  considerable  by  their  number  and  property,  as  well  as 
by  their  influence,  and  the  duties  of  their  station ;  yet  whilst  every 
other  profession  has  those  amongst  the  national  representatives, 
who,  being  conversant  in  the  same  occupation,  are  able  to  state, 
and  naturally  disposed  to  support,  the  rights  and  interest  of  the 
class  and  calling  to  which  they  belong,  the  clergy  alone  are  de- 
prived of  this  advantage ;  which  hardship  is  made  up  to  them  by 
introducing  the  prelacy  into  parliament ;  and  if  bishops,  from 
gratitude  or  expectation,  be  more  obsequious  to  the  will  of  the 
crown,  than  those  who  possess  great  temporal  inheritances,  they 
are  properly  inserted  into  that  part  of  the  constitxition,  from  which 
much  or  frequent  resistance  to  the  measures  of  government  is  not 
expected. 

I  acknowledge,  that  I  perceive  no  sufficient  reason  for  exempting 
the  person  of  members  of  either  house  of  parliament  from  arrest 
for  debt.  The  counsels  or  suffrage  of  a  single  senator,  especial- 
ly of  one  who  in  the  management  of  his  own  affairs  may  justly  be 
suspected  of  a  want  of  prudence  or  honesty,  can  seldom  be  so  ne- 
cessary to  those  of  the  public,  as  to  justify  a  departure  from  that 
wholesome  policy,  by  which  the  laws  of  a  commercial  state  punish 
and  stigmatize  insolvency.  But  whatever  reason  may  be  pleaded 
for  their  personal  immunity,  when  this  privilege  of  parliament  is 
extended  to  domestics  and  retainers,  or  when  it  is  permitted  to  im- 
pede or  delay  the  course  of  judicial  proceedings,  it  becomes  an  ab- 
surd sacrifice  of  equal  justice  to  imaginary  dignity. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  British  constitution  so  remarkable  as  the 
irregularity  of  the  popular  representation.  The  House  of  Com- 
mons consists  of  five  hundred  and  forty-eight  members,  of  whom 
two  hundred  are  elected  by  seven  thousand  constituents ;  so  that 
a  majority  of  these  seven  thousand  %vithout  any  reasonable  title  to 
superior  weight  and  influence  in  the  state,  may,  under  certain  cir- 
cumstances, decide  a  question  against  the  opinion  of  as  many  mil- 
lions. Or  to  place  the  same  object  in  another  point  of  view :  If 
24* 


i*8  THE    BRITISH   CONSTITUTION. 

my  estate  be  situated  in  one  county  of  the  kingdom,  I  possess  the 
ten-  thousandth  part  of  a  single  representative ;  if  in  another,  the 
thousandth ;  if  in  a  particular  district,  I  may  be  one  in  twenty  who 
choose  two  representatives ;  if  in  a  still  more  favoured  spot,  I  ma\ 
enjoy  the  right  of  appointing  two  myself.  If  I  have  been  born,  01 
dwell,  or  have  served  an  apprenticeship  in  one  town,  I  am  repre- 
sented in  the  national  assembly  by  two  deputies,  in  the  choice  of 
whom  I  exercise  an  actual  and  sensible  share  of  power;  if  accident 
has  thrown  my  birth,  or  habitation,  or  service,  into  another  town, 
I  have  no  representative  at  all,  nor  more  power  or  concern  in  the 
election  of  those  who  make  the  laws  by  which  I  am  governed,  than 
if  I  was  a  subject  of  the  grand  Signor : — and  this  partially  subsists 
without  any  pretence  whatever  of  merit  or  of  propriety,  to  justify 
the  preference  of  one  place  to  another.  Or,  thirdly,  To  describe 
the  state  of  national  representation  as  it  exists  in  reality,  it  may 
be  affirmed  I  believe  witli  truth,  that  about  one  half  of  the  House 
of  Commons  obtain  their  seats  in  that  assembly  by  the  election  of. 
die  people,  the  other  half  by  purchase,  or  by  the  nomination  of 
single  proprietors  of  great  estates^ 

This  is  a  flagrant  incongruity  in  the  constitution ;  but  it  is  one  of 
those  objections  which  strike  most  forcibly  at  first  sight.  The  ef- 
fect of  all  reasoning  upon  the  subject  is  to  diminish  the  first  im- 
pression; on  which  account  it  deserves  the  more  attentive  exami- 
nation, that  we  may  be  assured,  before  we  adventure  upon  a  refor- 
mation, that  the  magnitude  of  the  evil  justifies  the  danger  of  the 
experiment.  In  a  few  remarks  that  follow,  we  would  be  under- 
stood, in  the  first  place,  to  decline  all  conference  with  those  who 
wish  to  alter  the  form  of  government  of  these  kingdoms.  The  re- 
formers with  whom  we  have  to  do,  are  they  who,  whilst  they  change 
this  part  of  the  system,  would  retain  the  rest.  If  any  Englishman 
expects  more  happiness  to  his  country  under  a  republic,  he  may 
very  consistently  recommend  a  new-modelling  of  elections  to  par- 
liament ;  because,  if  the  king  and  House  of  Lords  were  laid  aside, 
the  present  disproportionate  representation  would  produce  nothing 
but  a  confused  and  ill-digested  oligarchy.  In  like  manner  we  wave 
a  controversy  with  those  writers  who  insist  upon  a  representation 
as  a  natural  right  ;*  we  consider  it  so  far  only  as  a  right  at  all,  as 

*  If  this  right  be  natural,  no  doubt  it  must  be  equal ;  and  the  right,  we  may  add, 
of  one  sex  as  well  as  of  the  other.  AVhereas  every  plan  of  representation  that  \v< 
have  heard  of,  begins  by  excluding  the  votes  of  women  ;  thus  cutting  off  at  a  single 
stroke,  one  half  of  the  public  from  a  right  which  is  asserted  to  be  inherent  in  all ; 
a  right  too,  as  some  represent  it;  not  only  universal,  but  unalicnablc  and  indcfca 


THE   BRITISH   CONSTITUTION,  £Tf5 

it  conduces  to  public  utility ;  that  is,  as  it  contributes  to  tbc  estab- 
lishment of  good  laws,  or  as  it  secures  to  the  people  Vne  just  ad- 
ministration of  these  laws.  These  effects  depend  upon  the  disposi- 
tion and  abilities  of  the  national  counsellors.  Wherefore,  if  men 
the  most  likely  by  their  qualifications  to  know  and  to  promote  the 
public  interest,  be  actually  returned  to  parliament,  it  signifies  little 
who  return  them.  If  the  properest  persons  be  elected,  what  mat- 
ters it  b}vwhom  they  are  elected  ?  At  least,  no  prudent  statesman 
would  subvert  long  established,  or  even  settled  rules  of  represen- 
tation, without  a  prospect  of  procuring  wiser  or  better  represen- 
tatives. This,  then,  being  well  observed,  let  us.,  before  we  seek  to 
obtain  any  thing  more,  consider  duly  what  we  already  have.  We 
have  a  House  of  Commons  composed  of  five  hundred  and  forty-eigh' 
members,  in  which  number  are  found  the  most  considerable  land- 
holders and  merchants  of  the  kingdom  ;  the  heads  of  the  army,  the 
navy,  and  the  law  ;  the  occupiers  of  great  offices  in  the  state ;  to- 
gether with  many  private  individuals,  eminent  by  their  know- 
ledge, eloquence  or  activity.  Now,  if  the  country  be  not  safe  in 
such  hands,  in  whose  may  it  confide  its  interests  ?  If  such  a  num- 
ber of  such  men  be  liable  to  the  influence  of  corrupt  motives,  what 
assembly  of  men  will  be  secure  from  the  same  danger  ?  Does  any 
new  scheme  of  representation  promise  to  collect  together  more 
wisdom,  or  to  produce  firmer  integrity  ?  In  this  view  of  the  sub- 
ject, and  attending  not  to  ideas  of  order  and  proportion,  (of  which 
many  minds  are  much  enamoured,)  but  to  effects  alone,  we  may 
discover  just  excuses  for  those  parts  of  the  present  representation., 
which  appear  to  a  hasty  observer  most  exceptionable  and  absurd. 
It  should  be  remembered,  as  a  maxim  extremely  applicable  to  this 
subject,  that  no  order  or  assembly  of  men  whatever  can  long  main- 
tain their  place  and  authority  in  a  mixed  government,  of  which  the 
members  do  not  individually  possess  a  respectable  share  of  persona) 
importance.  Now,  whatever  may  be  the  defects  of  the  present  ar- 
r^.ngement,  it  infallibly  secures  a  great  weight  of  property  to  the 
House  of  Commons,  by  rendering  many  seats  in  that  house  acces- 
sible to  men  of  large  fortunes,  and  to  such  men  alone.  By  which 
means,  those  characters  are  engaged  in  the  defence  of  the  separate 
rights  and  interests  of  this  branch  of  the  legislature,  that  are  bes'< 
able  to  support  its  claims.  The  constitution  of  most  of  the  small 
boroughs,  especially  the  burgage  tenure,  contributes,  though  un- 
designedly,  to  the  same  effect ;  for  the  appointment  of  the  repre- 
sentatives we  find  commonly  aunexed  to  certain  great  inheritances. 
Elections  purely  popular  are  in  this  respect  uncertain :  in  times  oi 
tranquillity,  the  natural  ascendency  of  wealth  will  prevail;  but 


THE   BRITISH   CONSTITUTION*. 

when  the  minds  of  men  are  inflamed  by  political  dissentions,  this 
influence  often  yields  to  more  impetuous  motives.  The  variety  ot 
tenures  and  qualifications  upon  which  the  right  of  voting  is  found- 
ed, appears  to  me  a  recommendation  of  the  mode  which  now  sub- 
sists, as  it  tends  to  introduce  into  parliament  a  corresponding  mix- 
ture of  characters  and  professions.  It  has  been  long  observed,  that 
conspicuous  abilities  are  most  frequently  found  with  the  represen- 
tatives of  small  boroughs.  .  And  this  is  nothing  more  than  what  the 
laws  of  human  conduct  might  teach  us  to  expect:  when  such  bo- 
roughs are  set  to  sale,  those  men  are  likely  to  become  purchasers, 
who  are  enabled  by  their  talents  to  make  the  best  of  their  bargain ; 
when  a  seat  is  not  sold,  but  given  by  the  opulent  proprietor  of  a 
burgage  tenure,  the  patron  finds  his  own  interest  consulted  by  the 
reputation  and  abilities  of  the  member  whom  he  nominates.  If 
certain  of  the  nobility  hold  the  appointment  of  some  part  of  the 
House  of  Commons,  it  serves  to  maintain  that  alliance  between  the 
two  branches  of  the  legislature,  which  no  good  citizen  would  wish 
to  see  dissevered ;  it  helps  to  keep  the  government  of  the  country 
in  the  House  of  Commons,  in  which  it  would  not  perhaps  long  con- 
tinue to  reside,  if  so  powerful  and  wealthy  a  part  of  the  nation  as 
the  peerage  compose,  were  excluded  from  all  share  and  interest  in 
its  constitution.  If  there  be  a  few  boroughs  so  circumstanced  as 
to  lie  at  the  disposal  of  the  crown,  whilst  the  number  of  such  is 
known  and  small,  they  may  be  tolerated  with  little  danger.  For 
where  would  be  the  impropriety,  or  the  inconveniency,  if  the  king 
at  once  should  nominate  a  limited  number  of  his  servants  to  seats 
iu  parliament?  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  if  seats  in  parliament 
were  annexed  to  the  possession  of  certain  of  the  most  efficient  end 
responsible  offices  in  the  state  ?  The  present  representation,  after 
all  these  deductions,  and  under  the  confusion  in  which  it  confessed- 
ly lies,  is  still  in  such  a  degree  popular,  or  rather  the  representa- 
tives are  so  connected  with  the  mass  of  the  community  by  a  socie- 
1y  of  interests  and  passions,  that -the  will  of  the  people,  when  it 
is  determined,  permanent,  and  general,  almost  always  at  length 
prevails. 

Upon  the  whole,  in  the  several  plans  which  have  been  suggest- 
ed, of  an  equal  or  a  reformed  representation,  it  will  be  difficult  to 
discover  any  proposal,  that  has  a  tendency  <o  throw  more  of  the 
business  of  the  nation  into  the  House  of  commons,  or  to  collect  a 
set  of  men  more  fit  to  transact  that  business,  or  in  general  more 
interested  in  the  national  happiness  and  prosperity.  One  conse- 
quence, however  may  be  expected  from  these  projects,  namelyi 
"  less  flexibility  to  the  influence  of  the  crown."  And  since  the 


THE   BRITISH    CONSTITUTION.  281 

diminution  of  this  influence  is  the  declared  and  perhaps  the  sole 
design  of  the  various  schemes  that  have  been  produced,  whether 
for  regulating  the  elections,  contracting  the  duration,  or  for  purify- 
ing the  constitution  of  parliament  by  the  exclusion  of  placemen  and 
pensioners ;  it  is  obvious,  and  of  importance  to  remark,  that  the 
more  apt  and  natural,  as  well  as  the  more  safe  and  quiet  way  of  at- 
taining the  same  end,  would  be  by  a  direct  reduction  of  the  patron- 
age of  the  crown,  which  might  be  effected  to  a  certain  extent  with- 
out hazarding  further  consequences.  Superfluous  and  exorbitant 
emoluments  of  office  may  not  only  be  suppressed  for  the  present; 
but  provisions  of  law  be  devised,  which  should  for  the  future  re- 
strain within  certain  limits  the  number  and  value  of  the  offices  in 
the  donation  of  the  king. 

But  whilst  we  dispute  concerning  different  schemes  of  reforma- 
tion, all  directed  to  the  same  end,  a  previous  doubt  occurs  in  the 
debate,  whether  the  end'itself  be  good,  or  safe  ; — whether  the  influ- 
ence so  loudly  complained  of  can  be  destroyed,  or  even  diminish- 
ed wjthout  danger  to  the  state.  Whilst  the  zeal  of  some  men  be- 
holds this  influence  with  a  jealousy,  which  nothing  but  its  abolition 
can  appease,  many  wise  and  virtuous  politicians  deem  a  considera- 
ble portion  of  it  to  be  as  necessary  a  part  of  the  British  constitu- 
tion, as  any  other  ingredient  in  the  composition ;  to  be  that,  indeed, 
which  gives  cohesion  and  solidity  to  the  whole.  Were  the  mea- 
sures of  government,  say  they,  opposed  from  nothing  but  princi- 
ple, government,  ought  to  have  nothing  but  the  rectitude  of  its 
measures  to  support  them ;  but  since  opposition  springs  from  other 
motives,  government  must  possess  an 'influence  to  counteract  that 
opposition  ;  to  produce  not  a  bias  of  the  passions,  but  a  neutrality ; 
it  must  have  some  weight  to  cast  into  the  scale,  to  set  the  balance 
even.  It  is  the  nature  of  power,  always  to  press  upon  the  bounda- 
ries which  confine  it.  Licentiousness,  faction,  envy,  impatience  of 
control  or  inferiority ;  the  secret  pleasure  of  mortifying  the  great,  or 
the  hope  of  dispossessing  them  ;  a  constant  willingness  to  question 
and  thwart  whatever  is  dictated,  or  even  proposed  by  another  ;  a 
disposition  common  to  all  bodies  of  men,  to  extend  the  claims  and 
authority  of  their  orders ;  above  all,  that  love  of  power,  and  of  show- 
ing it,  which  resides  more  or  less  in  every  human  breast,  and  which, 
in  popular  assemblies,  is  inflamed,  like  every  other  passion,  by 
communication  and  encouragement :  These  motives,  added  to  pri- 
vate designs  and  resentments,  cherished  also  by  popular  acclama- 
tion, and  operating  upon  the  great  share  of  power  already  possess- 
ed by  the  House  of  Commons,  might  induce  a  majority,  or  at  least 
•»  large  party  of  men  in  that  assembly,  to  unite  in  endeavouring  to 


282  THE    BRITISH    CONSTITUTtOX. 

draw  to  themselves  the  whole  government  of  the  state ;  or  at  least, 
so  to  obstruct  the  conduct  of  public  affairs,  by  a  wanton  and  per- 
verse opposition,  as  to  render  it  impossible  for  the  wisest  statesman 
to  carry  forward  the  business  of  the  nation  in  parliament  with 
success  or  satisfaction. 

Some  passages  of  our  national  history  afford  grounds  for  these  ap- 
prehensions. Before  the  accessign  of  James  the  First,  or,  at  least, 
during  the  reigns  of  his  three  immediate  predecessors,  the  govern- 
ment of  England  was  a  government  by  force ;  that  is,  the  king  car- 
ried his  measures  in  parliament  by  intimidation.  A  sense  of  personal 
danger  kept  the  members  of  the  House  of  Commons  in  subjection. 
A  conjunction  of  fortunate  causes  delivered  at  least  the  parliament 
and  nation  from  slavery.  That  overbearing  system  which  had  de- 
clined in  the  hands  of  James,  expired  early  in  the  reign  of  his  son. 
After  the  restoration,  there  succeeded  in  its  place,  and  since  the  Re- 
volution has  been  methodically  pursued,  the  more  successful  expe- 
dient of  influence.  Now,  we  remember  what  passed  between  the  loss 
of  terror,  and  the  establishment  of  influence.  The  transactions  of 
that  interval,  whatever  we  may  think  of  their  occasion  or  effect, 
no  friend  of  regal  government  would  wish  to  see'  revived.  But 
the  affairs  of  this  kingdom  afford  a  more  recent  attestation  to  the 
same  doctrine.  In  the  British  colonies  of  North  America,  the  late 
assemblies  possessed  much  of  the  power  and  constitution  of  our 
House  of  Commons.  The  king  and  government  of  Great  Britian 
held  no  patronage  in  the  country,  which  could  create  attachment 
and  influence  sufficient  to  counteract  th#t  restless,  arrogating  spir- 
it, which,  in  popular  assemblies,  when  left  to  itself,  will  never 
brook  an  authority  that  checks  and  interferes  with  its  own.  To 
this  cause,  excited  perhaps  by  some  unseasonable  provocations,  we 
may  attribute,  as  to  their  true  and  proper  original,  (we  will  not  say 
the  misfortunes,)  but,  the  changes  tbat  have  taken  place  in  the 
British  empire.  The  admonition,  which  such  examples  suggest, 
will  have  its  weight  with  those,  who  are  content  with  the  general 
frame  of  the  English  constitution  ;  and  who  consider  stability 
amongst  the  first  perfections  of  any  government. 

We  protest,  however,  against  any  construction,  by  which,  what  is 
here  said  shall  be  attempted  to  be  applied  to  the  justification  of  bribe- 
ry, or  of  any  clandestine  reward  or  solicitation  whatever.  The  ve- 
ry secrecy  of  such  negociations  confesses  or  begets  a  consciousness 
of  guilt;  which,  when  the  mind  is  once  taught  to  endure  without  un- 
easiness, the  character  is  prepared  for  every  compliance  ;  and  there 
is  the  greater  danger  in  these  corrupt  practices,  as  the  extent  of 
tlieir  operation  is  unlimited  and  unknown.  Our  apology  relates 


THE   BRITISH   CONSTITUTION.  28:3 

solely  to  that  influence,  which  results  from  the  acceptance  or  ex- 
pectation of  public  preferments.  Nor  does  the  influence,  which 
we  defend  require  any  sacrifice  of  personal  probity.  In  political, 
above  all  other  subjects,  the  arguments,  or  rather  the  conjectures, 
on  each  side  of  a  question,  are  often  so  equally  poised,  that  the  wi- 
sest judgments  may  be  held  in  suspense  :  these  I  call  subjects  of 
indifference.  But  again,  when  the  subject  is  not  indifferent  in  it- 
self, it  will  appear  such  to  a  great  part  of  those  to  whom  it  is  pro- 
posed, for  want  of  information,  or  reflection,  or  experience,  or  ol 
Capacity  to  collect  and  weigh  the  reasons  by  which  either  side  is 
supported.  -  These  are  subjects  of  apparent  indifference.  This  in- 
difference occurs  still  more  frequently  in  personal  contests,  in 
which  we  do  not  often  discover  any  reason  of  public  utility  for  the 
preference  of  one  competitor  to  another.  These  cases  compose 
the  province  of  influence :  that  is,  the  decision  in  these  cases  will 
inevitably  be  determined  by  influence  of  some  sort  or  other.  The 
only  doubt  is,  what  influence  shall  be  admitted.  If  you  remove: 
the  influence  of  the  crown,  it  is.  only  to  make  way  for  influence 
from  a  different  quarter.  If  motives  of  expectation  and  gratitude 
be  withdrawn,  other  motives  will  succeed  in  their  place,  acting 
probably  in  an  opposite  direction,  but  equally  irrelative  and  exter- 
nal to  the  proper  merits  of  the  question.  There  exist,  as  we  have 
seen,  passions  in  the  human  heart,  which  will  always  make  a  strong 
party  against  the  executive  power  of  a  mixed  government.  Ac- 
cording as  the  disposition  of  parliament,  is  friendly  or  adverse  to  the 
recommendation  of  the  crown,  in  matters  which  are  really  or  appa- 
rently indifferent,  as  indifference  hath  been  now  explained,  the 
business  of  the  empire  will  be  transacted  with  ease  and  convenience, 
or  embarrassed  with  endless  contention  and  difficulty.  ^Nor  is  it  a 
conclusion  founded  in  justice,  or  warranted  by  experience,  that, 
because  men  are  induced  by  views  of  interest  to  yield  their  con- 
sent to  measures,  concerning  which  their  judgment  decides  nothing-, 
they  may  be  brought  by  the  same  influence  to  act  in  direct  opposi- 
tion, to  knowledge  and  duty.  Whoever  reviews  the  operations  ot 
government  in  this  country  since  the  Revolution,  will  find  few  even 
of  the  most  questionable  measures  of  administration,  about  which 
the  best  instructed  judgment  might  not  have  doubted  at  the  time  : 
but  of  which  he  may  affirm  with  certainty,  that  they  were  indiffe- 
rent to  the  greatest  part  of  those  who  concurred  in  them.  From  the 
success,  or  the  facility,  with  which  they  who  dealt  out  the  patron- 
age of  the  crown,  carried  measures  like  these,  ought  we  to  conclude, 
that  a  similar  application  of  honours  and  emoluments,  would  pro- 
cure the  consent  of  parliament  to  counsels  evidently  detriment  a  i 


284  OP  JUSTICE. 

to  the  common  welfare?  Is  there  not,  on  the  contrary,  more  reu 
son  to  fear,  that  the  prerogative,  if  deprived  of  influence,  would 
not  be  long  able  to  support  itself?  For  when  we  reflect  upon  llu 
power  of  the  House  of  Commons  to  extort  a  compliance  with  it- 
resolutions  from  the  other  parts  of  the  legislature ;  or  to  put  to 
death  the  constitution  by  a  refusal  of  the  annual  grants  of  money 
to  the  support  of  the  necessary  functions  of  government ; — when 
we  reflect  also  what  motives  there  are,  which,  in  the  vicissitudes  of 
political  interests  and  passions,  may  one  day  arm  and  point  this 
power  against  the  executive  magistrate; — when  we  attend  to 
these  considerations,  we  shall  be  led  perhaps  to  acknowledge,  thai 
there  is  not  more  of  paradox  than  of  probability,  in  that  impor- 
tant, but  much  decried  apophthegm,  "  that  an  independent  par 
"  liament  is  incompatible  with  the  existence  of  the  monarchy." 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

OF  THE  ADMINISTRATION  OF  JUSTICE. 

THE  first  maxim  of  a  free  state  is,  that  the  laws  be  made  by  one, 
set  of  men,  aud  administered  by  another  ;  in  other  words,  that  the 
legislative  and  judicial  characters  be  kept  separate.  When  these 
offices  are  united  in  the  same  person  or  assembly,  particular  laws 
are  made  for  particular  cases,  springing  oftentimes  from  partial 
motives,  and  directed  to  private  ends  :  whilst  they  are  kept  sepa- 
rate, general  laws  are  made  b}-  one  body  of  men,  without  foresee- 
ing whom  they  may  effect ;  and,  when  made,  must  be  applied  by 
the  other,  let  them  affect  whom  they  will. 

For  the  sake  of  illustration,  let  it  be  supposed,  in  this  country, 
cither  that,  parliaments  being  laid  aside,  the  courts  of  Westmin- 
ster-Hall made  their  own  laws  ;  or  that  the  two  houses  of  parlia- 
ment, with  the  king  at  their  head,  tried  and  decided  causes  at  their 
bar  ;  it  is  evident  in  the  first  place,  that  the  decisions,  of  such  a 
judicature  would  be  so  many  laws  ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  that, 
when  the  parties  and  the  interests  to  be  affected  by  the  law  were 
known,  the  inclinations  of  the  law-makers  would  inevitably  attach 
on  one  side  or  the  other  ;  and  that,  where  there  were  neither  an}- 
fixed  rules  to  regulate  their  determinations,  nor  any  superior  pow- 
er to  control  their  proceedings,  these  inclinations  would  interfere 
with  the  integrity  of  public  justice.  The  consequence  of  which 
must  be,  that  the  subjects  of  such  a  constitution  would  live  either 
without  any  constant  laws,  that  is,  without  any  known  prc-estab- 


OF   JUSTICE.  26^ 

rules  of  adjudication  whatever  ;  or  under  laws  made  for  par- 
ticular cases  and  particular  persons,  and  partaking  of  the  contra- 
dictions and  iniquity  of  the  motives  to  which  they  owed  their  origin 
Which  dangers,  by  the  divisions  of  the  legislative  and  judicial 
functions,  are  in  this  country  effectually  provided  against.     Parlia- 
ment knows  not  the  individuals  upon  whom  its  acts  will  operate ;  i! 
has  no  cases  or  parties  before  it  ;  no  private  designs  to  serve ;  con 
sequently,  its  resolutions  will  be  suggested  by  the  consideration  ot 
universal  effects  and  tendencies  which  always  produces,  impartial 
and  commonly  advantageous  regulations.     When  laws  are  made, 
courts  of  justice,  whatever  be  the  disposition  of  the  judges,  musf. 
abide  by  them  ;  for,  the  legislative  being  necessarily  the  supreme 
power  of  the  state,  the  judicial,  and  every  other  power,  is  accounta- 
ble to  that ;  and  it  cannot  be  doubted,  but  that  the  persons  who  pos- 
sess the  sovereign  authority  of  government,  will  be  tenacious  of  the 
laws  which  they  themselves  prescribe,  and  sufficiently  jealous  of 
the  assumption  of  dispensing  the  legislative  powers  by  any  others. 
This  fundamental  rule  of  civil  jurisprudence  is  violated  in  the 
case  of  acts  of  attainder  or  confiscation,  in  bills  of  pains  and  pen- 
alties, and  in  all  ex  post  facto  laws  whatever,  in  which  parliament: 
exercises  the  double  office  of  legislature  and  judge.     And  wiioso- 
cver'either  understands  the   value  of  the  rule  itself,  or  collects  the 
history  of  those  instances,  in  which  it  has  been  invaded,  will  be  in- 
duced, I  believe,  to  acknowledge,  that  it  had  been  wiser  and  saf- 
er never  to  have  departed  from  it.     He  will  confess,  at  least,  tha<: 
nothing  but  the  most  manifest  and  immediate  perrl  of  the  common- 
wealth will  justify  a  repetition  of  these  dangerous  examples.    If  the 
laws  in  being  do  not  punish  an  offender,  let  him  go  unpunished;  let 
the  legislature  admonished  of  the  defect  of  the  laws,  provide  against 
the  commission  of  future  crimes  of  the  same  sort.     The  escape  of 
one  delinquent  can  never  produce  so  much  harm  to  the  communi- 
ty, as  may  arise  from  the  infraction  of  a  rule,  upon  which  the  pu- 
rity of  public  justice,  and  the  existence  of  civil  liberty  essentijd^ 
depend. 

The  next  security  for  the  impartial  administration  of  justice,  es- 
pecially in  decisions  to  which  government  is  a  part}-,  is  the  inde- 
pendency of  the  judges.  As  protection  against  every  illegal  attack 
upon  the  rights  of  the  subject  by  the  servants  of  the  crown  is  to  be 
sought  for  from  these  tribunals,  the  judges  of  the  land  become  not 
(infrequently  the  arbitrators  between  the  king  and  the  people ;  on 
which  account  they  ought  to  be  independent  of  either ;  or,  what  is 
tliB  same  thing,  equally  dependent  upon  both ;  that  is,  if  they  be 
appointed  by  the  one,  they  should  be  removable  only  by  the  other. 


.iG  OF   JUSTICE. 

This  was;  the  policy  which  dictated  that  memorable  improvemea? 
in  our  constitution,  by  which  the  judges,  who  before  the  Revolution* 
held  their  offices  during-  the  pleasure  of  the  king,  can  now  only  be 
deprived  of  them  by  an  address  from  both  houses  of  parliament ;  as 
the  most  regular,  solemn,  and  authentic  way,  by  which  the  dissat- 
isfaction of  the  people  can  be  expressed.  To  make  this  indepen- 
dency of  the  judges  complete,  the  public  salaries  of  their  office 
ought  not  only  to  be  certain,  both  in  amount  and  continuance,  but 
so  liberal  as  to  secure  their  integrity  from  the  temptation  of  secret 
bribes ;  which  liberality  will  answer  also  the  further  purpose  of  pre- 
serving- their  jurisdiction  from  contempt,  and  their  characters  from 
suspicion  ;  as  well  as  of  rendering  the  station  worthy  of  the  ambi- 
tion of  men  of  eminence  in  their  profession. 

A  third  precaution  to  be  observed  in  the  formation  of  courts  oi 
justice  is,  that  the  number  of  judges  be  small.  For,  besides  that 
the  violence  and  tumult  inseparable  from  large  assemblies,  are  in- 
consistent with  the  patience,  method,  and.  attention  requisite  in  ju- 
dicial investigations  ;  besides  that  all  passions  and  prejudices  act 
with  augmented  force  upon  a  collected  multitude  :  besides  these 
objections,  judges,  when  they  are  numerous,  divide  the  shame  of 
an  unjust  determination  ;  they  shelter  themselves  under  one  anoth- 
er's example  ;  each  man  thinks  his  own  character  hid  in  the  crowd  : 
for  which  reason,  the  judges  ought  always  to  be  so  few,  as  that  the 
conduct  of  each  may  be  conspicuous  to  public  observation  ;  that 
each  may  be  responsible  in  his  separate  and  particular  reputation 
for  the  decisions  in  which  he.  concurs.  The  truth  of  the  above  re- 
mark has  been  exemplified  in  this  country,  in  the  effects  of  that 
wise  regulation,  which  transferred  the  trial  of  parliamentary  elec- 
tions from  the  House  of  Commons  at  large,  to  a  select  committee  of 
that  house,  composed  of  thirteen  members.  This  alteration,  sim- 
ply by  reducing  the  number  of  judges,  and,  in  consequence  of  that 
reduction,  exposing  the  judicial  conduct  of  each  to  public  animad- 
version, has  given  to  a  judicature,  which  had  been  long  swayed  by 
interest  and  solicitation,  the  solemnity  and  virtue  of  the  most  up- 
right tribunals. — I  should  prefer  an  even  to  an  odd  number  of 
judges,  and  four  to  almost  any  other  number  ;  for  in  this  number, 
besides  that  it  sufficiently  consults  the  idea  of  separate  responsibili- 
ty, nothing  can  be  decided  but  by  a  majority  of  three  to  one.  And 
when  we  consider  that  every  decision  establishes  a  perpetual  pre- 
cedent, we  shall  allow  that  it  ought  to  proceed  from  authority  not 
less  than  this.  If  the  court  be  equally  divided,  then  nothing  is 
done  ;  things  remain  as  they  were  ;  with  some  inconvenicncy,  in- 


OF    JUSTICE.  28? 

ueed  to  the  parties,  but  without  the  danger  to  the  public  of  a  hastj 
precedent. 

A  fourth  requisite  in  the  constitution  of  a  court  of  justice,  and 
equivalent  to  many  checks  upon  the  discretion  of  judges,  is,  that 
its  proceedings  be  carried  on  in  public,  apertis  foribus  ;  not  only 
before  a  promiscuous  concourse  of  by-standers,  but  in  the  audience 
of  the  whole  profession  of  the  law.  The  opinion  of  the  bar  con- 
cerning what  passes,  will  be  impartial ;  and  will  commonly  guide 
that  of  the  public.  The  most  corrupt  judge  will  fear  to  indulge 
his  dishonest  wishes  in  the  presence  of.  such  an  assembly  ;  he  must 
encounter,  what  tew  can  support,  the  censure  of  his  equals  and 
companions,  together  with  the  indignation  and  reproaches  of  !»> 
country. 

Something  is  also  gained  to  the  public  by  appointing  two  or  three 
courts  of  concurrent  jurisdiction,  that  it  may  remain  in  the  option 
of  the  suitor  to  which  he  will  resort.  By  this  means,  a  tribunal 
which  may  happen  to  be  occupied  by  ignorant  or  suspected  judges, 
will  be  deserted  for  others  that  possess  more  of  the  confidence  ot 
the  nation. 

But,  lastly,  If  several  courts,  co-ordinate  to,  and  independent  of 
each  other,  subsist  together  in  the  country,  it  seems  necessary  that 
the  appeals  from  all  of  them  should  meet  and  terminate  in  the  same 
judicature ;  in  order  that  one  supreme  tribunal,  by  whose  final 
-entence  all  others  are  bound  and  concluded,  may  superintend  and 
preside  over  the  rest.  This  constitution  is  necessary  for  two  pur- 
poses ; — to  preserve  an  uniformity  in  the  decisions  of  inferior 
courts,  and  to  maintain  to  each  the  proper  limits  of  its  jurisdiction. 
Without  a  common  superior,  different  courts  might  establish  con- 
tradictory rules  of  adjudication,  and  the  contradiction  be  final  and 
without  remedy ;  the  same  question  might  receive  opposite  deter- 
minations, according  as  it  was  brought  before  one^court  or  another, 
and  the  determination  in  each  be  ultimate  and  irreversible.  A 
common  appellant  jurisdiction  prevents  or  puts  an  end  to  this  con- 
lusion.  For  when  the  judgments  upon  appeals  are  consistent 
(which  may  be  expected,  vhilst  it  is  the  same  court  which  is  at 
last  resorted  to,)  the  different  courts,'  from  which  the  appeals  arc 
brought,  will  be  reduced  to  a  like  consistency  with  one  another. 
Moreover,  if  questions  arise  between  courts,  independent  of  each 
other,  concerning  the  extent  and  boundaries  of  their  respective  ju- 
risdiction, as  each  will  be  desirous  of  enlarging  its  own,  an  autho- 
rity, which  both  acknowledge  can  alone  adjust  the  controversy. 
•>uch  a  power,  therefore,  must  reside  somewhere,  lest  the  right* 


*OG  OF    JUSTICE. 

and  repose  of  the  country  be  distracted  by  the  endless  opposition 
and  mutual  encroachments  of  its  courts  of  justice. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  judicature  ;  the  one  where  the  office  oi 
the  judge  is  permanent  in  the  same  person,  and  consequently  where 
the  judge  is  appointed  and  known  long  before  the  trial ;  the  other, 
where  the  judge  is  determined  by  lot  at  the  time  of  the  trial,  and 
for  that  turn  only.  The  one  may  be  called  a.  fixed,  the  other  a  ca- 
sual judicature.  From  the  former  may  be  expected  those  qualifi- 
cations which  are  preferred  and  sought  for  in  the  choice  of  judges. 
and  that  knowledge  and  readiness  which  result  from  experience  in 
the  office.  But  then,  as  the  judge  is  known  beforehand,  he  is  ac- 
cessible to  the  parties  ;  there  exists  a  possibility  of  secret  manage- 
ment and  undue  practices  ;  or,  in  contests  between  the  crown  and 
the  subject;  the  judge  appointed  by  the  crown  may  be  suspected  o( 
partiality  to  his  patron,  or  of  entertaining  inclinations  favourable  to 
the  authority  from  which  he  derives  his  own.  The  advantage  at- 
tending the  second  kind  of  judicature,'  is  indifferency  ;  the  defect, 
the  want  of  that  legal  science  which  produces  uniformity  and  jus- 
tice in  legal  descisions.  The  construction  of  English  courts  of  law. 
in  which  causes  are  tried  by  a  jury,  with  the  assistance  of  a  judge, 
combines  the  two  species  together  with  peculiar  success.  This  ad- 
mirable contrivance  unites  the  wisdom  of  a  fixed  with  the  integrity 
of  a  casual  judicature  ;  and  avoids,  in  a  great  measure,  the  incon- 
veniences of  both.  The  judge  imparts  to  the  jury  the  benefit  of  his 
erudition  and  experience;  the  jury,  by  their  disinterestedness, 
oheck  any  corrupt  partialities  which  previous  application  may  have, 
produced  in  the  judge.  If  the  determination  was  left  to  the  judge. 
Jhe  party  might  suffer  under  the  superior  interest  of  his  adversary  : 
if  it  was  left  to  an  uninstructed  jury,  his  rights  would  be  in  still 
greater  danger,  from  the  ignorance  of  those  who  were  to  decide 
upon  them.-  The  present  wise  admixture  of  chance  and  choice  in 
the  constitution  of  the  court  in  which  his  cause  is  tried,  guards  him 
equally  against  the  fear  of  injury  from  either  of  these  causes. 

In  proportion  to  the  acknowledged  excellency  of  this  mode  ol 
irial,  every  deviation  from  it  ought  to.  be  watched  with  vigilance, 
arid  admitted  by  the  legislature  with  caution  and  reluctance.  Sum- 
mary convictions -before  justices  of  the  peace,,  especially  for  offences 
against  the  game  laws ;  courts  of  conscience  ;  extending  the  juris- 
diction of  courts  of  equity ;  urging  too  far  the  distinction  between 
•juestions  of  law  and  matters  of  fact ;— are  all  so  many  infringe- 
ments upon  this  great  charter  of  public  safety. 

Nevertheless,  the  trial  by  jury  is  sometimes  found  inadequate  to 
i he  Administration  of  equal  justice.  This  imperfection  takes  place 


OF    JUSTICt.  289 

y  in  disputes  in  which  some  popular  passion  or  prejudice  in- 
tervenes ;  as  where  a  particular  order  of  men  advance  claims  upon 
the  rest  of  the  community,  which  is  the  case  of  the  clergy  conte'nd- 
ing  for  tithes ;  or  where  an  order  of  men  are  obnoxious  by  their 
profession,  as  are  officers  of  the  revenue,  bailiffs,  bailiff's  followers, 
and  other  low  ministers  of  the  law ;  or  where  one  of  the  parties  has 
an  interest  in  common  with  the  general  interest  of  the  jurors,  and 
that  of  the  other  is  opposed  to  it,  as  in  contests,  between  landlords 
and  tenants  ;  between  lords  of  manors  and  the  holders  of  estates  un- 
der them ;  or,  lastly,  where  the  minds  of  men  are  inflamed  by  poli- 
tical dissensions  or  religious  hatred.  These  prejudices  act  most 
powerfully  upon  the  common  people ;  of  which  order  juries  are 
made 'up.  The  force  and  danger  of  them  are  also  increased  by  the 
very  circumstance  of  taking  juries  out  of  the  county  in  which  the 
subject  of  dispute  arises.  In  the  neighbourhood  of  the  parties,  the 
cause  is  often  preiudged;  and  these  secret  decisions  of  the  mind 
proceed  commonly  more  upon  sentiments  of  favour  or  hatred, — up- 
on some  opinion  concerning  the  sect,  family,  profession,  character, 
connexions,  or  circumstances  of  the  parties, — than  upon  any  know- 
ledge or  discussion  of  the  proper  merits  of  the  question.  More  ex- 
act justice  would,  in  many  instances,  be  rendered  to  the  suitors,  if 
the  determination  were  left  entirely  to  the  judges  ;  provided  we 
could  depend  upon  the  same  purity  of  conduct,  when  the  power  of 
these  magistrates  was  enlarged,  which  they  have  long  manifested 
in  the  exercise  of  a  mixed  and  restrained  authority.  But  this  is  an 
experiment  too  big  with  public  danger  to  be  hazarded.  The  ef- 
fects, however,  of  some  local  prejudices,  might  be  safely  obviated 
by  a  law  empowering  the  court,  in  which  the  action  is  brought,  to 
send  the  cause  to  trial  in  a  distant  county ;  the  expense  attending- 
the  change  of  place  always  falling  upon  the  party  who  applied 
for  it. 

There  is  a  second  division  of  courts  of  justice,  which  presents  a 
new  alternative  of  difficulties.  .  Either  one,  two,  or  a  few  sovereign 
courts  may  be  erected  in  the  metropolis,  for  the  whole  kingdom  to 
resort  to ;  or  courts  of  local  jurisdiction  may  be  fixed  in  the  various 
provinces  and  districts  of  the  empire.  Great,  though  opposite,  in- 
conveniences attend  each  arrangement.  If  the  court  be  remote 
and  solemn,  it  becomes,  by  these  very  qualities,  expensive  and  di- 
latory :  the  expense  is  unavoidably  increased  when  witnesses,  par- 
ties, and  agents,  must  be  brought  to  attend  from  distant  parts  of  tlu 
country ;  and,  where  the  whole  judicial  business  of  a  large  nation 
is  collected  into  a  few  superior  tribunals,  it  will  be  found  impossi- 
ble, even  if  the  prolixity  of  forms  which  retards  the  progress  of 
25* 


290  OF    JUSTICL. 

causes  were  removed,  to  give  a  prompt  hearing1  to  every  complaint- 
or  an  immediate  answer  to  any.     On  the  other  hand,  if,  to  remedy 
these  evils,  and  to  render-the  administration  of  justice  cheap  and 
speedy,  domestic  and  summary  tribunals  be  erected  in  each  neigh- 
bourhood, the  advantage  of  such  courts  will  be  accompanied  with 
all  the  dangers  of  ignorance  and  partiality,  and  with  certain  mis- 
chief of  confusion  and  contrariety  in  their  decisions.     The  law  of 
England,  by  its  circuit,  or  itinerary  courts,  contains  a  provision  for 
the  distribution  of  private  justice,  in  a  great  measure  relieved  from 
both  these  objections.     As  the  presiding  magistrate  comes  into  the 
country  a  stranger  to  its  prejudices,  rivalships,  and  connexions,  he 
brings  with  him  none  of  those  attachments  and  regards,  which  are 
so  apt  to  pervert  the  course  of  justice,  when  the  parties  and  the 
judges  inhabit  the  same  neighbourhood.      Again,  as  this  magis- 
trate is  usually  one  of  the  judges  of  the  supreme  tribunals  of  the 
kingdom,  and  has  passed  his  life  in  the  study  and  administration  of 
the  laws,  he  possesses,  it  may  be  presumed,  those  professional  qua- 
lifications, which  befit  the  dignity  and  importance  of  his  station. 
Ijastly,  as  both  he,  and  the  advocates  who  accompany  him  in  his 
circuit,  are  employed  in  the  business  of  those  superior  courts  (to 
which  also  their  proceedings  are  amenable,)  they  will  naturally 
conduct  themselves  by  the  rules  of  adjudication  which  they  have 
applied  or  learned  there ;  and  by  this  means  maintain,  what  con- 
stitutes a  principal  perfection  of  civil  government,  one  law  of  the 
land  in  every  part  and  district  of  the  empire.  , 

Next  to  the  constitution  of  courts  of  justice,  we  are  naturally  led 
to  consider  the  maxims  which  ought  to  guide  their  proceedings  • 
and,  upon  this  subject,  the  chief  inquiry  will  be,  how  far,  and  for 
what  reasons,  it  is  expedient  to  adhere  to  former  determinations ; 
or  whether  it  be  necessary  for  judges  to  attend  to  any  other  consi- 
deration than  the  apparent  and  particular  equity  of  the  case  before 
them.  Now,  although  to  assert,  that  precedents  established  by- 
one  set  of  judges  ought  to  be  incontrovertible  by  their  successors  in 
the  same  jurisdiction,  pr  by  those  who  exercise  a  higher,  would  be 
to  attribute  to  the  sentence  of  those  judges  all  the  authority  we  as- 
cribe to  the  most  solemn  acts  of  the  legislature ;  yet  the  general 
security  of  private  rights,  and  of  civil  life,  requires  that  such  pre- 
cedents, especially  if  they  have  been  confirmed  by  repeated  adjudi- 
cations, should  not  be  overthrown,  without  a  detection  of  manifest 
error,  or  without  some  imputation  of  dishonesty  upon  the  court  by 
whose  judgment  the  question  was  first  decided.  And  this  deference 
to  prior  decisions  is  founded  upon  two  reasons  ;  first,  that  the  dis- 
cretion of  judges  may  be  bound  down  by  positive  rules ;  and,  sc- 


OF    JUSTICE.  2fc 

•jundly,  that  the  subject,  upon  every  occasion  in  which  his  legal 
interest  is  concerned,  may  know  beforehand  how  to  act,  and  what 
to  expect.  To  set  judges  free  from  any  obligation  to  conform  them- 
selves to  the  decisions  of  their  predecessors,  would  be  to  lay  open  a 
latitude  of  judging,  with  which  no  description  of  men  can  safely  be 
entrusted ;  it  would  be  to  allow  space  for  the  exercise  of  those  con- 
cealed partialities,  which,  since  they  cannot  by  any  human  policy 
be  excluded,  ought  to  be  confined  by  boundaries  and  land-marks. 
It  is  in  vain  to  allege,  that  the  superintendency  of  parliament  is  al- 
ways at  hand  to  control  and  punish  abuses  of  judicial  discretion. 
By  what  rules  can  parliament  proceed?  How  shall  they  pronounce 
a  decisioi)  to  be  wrong,  where  there  exists  no  acknowledged  mea- 
sure or  standard  of  what  is  right ;  which,  in  a  multitude  of  instances , 
would  be  the  case,  if  prior  determinations  were  no  longer  to  be  ap- 
pealed to  ? 

Diminishing  the  danger  of  partiality,  is  one  thing  gained  by  ad- 
hering to  precedents  ;  but  not  the  principal  thing.  The  subject  oi- 
every  system  of  laws  must  expect  that  decision  in  his  own  Case, 
which  he  knows  that  9thers  have  received  in  cases  similar  to  his. 
If  he  expect  not  this,  he  can  expect,  nothing.  There  exists  no 
other  rule  or  principle  of  reasoning,  by  which  he  can  foretel,  or 
even  conjecture,  the  event  of  a  judicial  contest.  To  remove 
therefore  the  grounds  of  this  expectation,  by  rejecting  the  force 
and  authority  of  precedents,  is  to  entail  upon  the  subject  the  worst 
property  of  slavery, — to  have  no  assurance  of  his  rights  or  know- 
ledge of  his  duty.  The  quiet  also  of  the  .country,  as  well  as  the  con- 
fidence and  satisfaction  of  each  man's  mind,  requires  uniformity  in- 
judicial  proceedings.  Nothing  quells  a  spirit  of  litigation  like  des- 
pair of  success  ;  therefore  nothing  so  completely  puts  an  end  to  law- 
suits as  a  rigid  adherence  to  known  rules  of  adjudication.  Whils', 
the  event  is  uncertain,  which  it  ever  must  be,  whilst  it  is  uncertain 
whether  former  determinations  upon  the  same  subject  will  be  fol- 
lowed or  not,  law-suits  will  be  endless  and  innumerable  :  men  will 
continually  engage  in  them,  either  from  the  hope  of  prevailing  in 
their  claims,  which  the  smallest  chance  is  sufficient  to  encourage ;  or 
with  the  design  of  intimidating  their  adversary  by  the  terrors  of  a 
dubious  litigation.  When  justice  is  rendered  to  the  parties,  only 
half  the  business  of  a  court  of  justice  is  done:  the  more  important, 
part  of  its  office  remains  ;— to  put  an  end,  for  the  future,  to  every 
fear,  and  quarrel,  and  expense  upon  the  same  point ;  and  so  to  re- 
gulate its  proceedings,  that  not  only  a  doubt  once  decided  may  be 
stirred  no  more,  but  that  the  whole  train  of  law-suits,  which  issue 
from  one  uncertainty,  may  die  with  the  parent  question. 


:i02  OF  JUSTICE. 

this  advantage  can  only  be  attained  by  considering  each  decision 
as  a  direction  to  succeeding  judges.  And  it  should  be  observed, 
that  every  departure  from  former  determinations,  especially  ii 
they  have  been  often  repeated  or  long  submitted  to,  shakes  the 
stability  of  all  legal  title.  It  is  not  fixing  a  point  anew  ;  it  is  leav 
ing  every  thing  unfixed.  For  by  the  same  stretch  of  power  by 
which  the  present  race  of  judges  take  upon  them  to  contradict  the 
judgment  of  their  predecessors,  those  who  try  the  question  next: 
may  set  aside  theirs. 

From  an  adherence  however  to  precedents,  by  which  so  much 
is  gained  to  the  public,  two  consequences  arise  which  are  often  la- 
mented ;  the  hardship  of  particular  determinations,  and  the  intri- 
cacy of  the  law  as  a  science.  To  the  first  of  these  complaints,  we 
must  apply  this  reflection; — "That  uniformity  is  of  more  impor- 
"  tance  than  equity,  in  proportion  as  a  general  uncertainty  would 
"  be  a  greater  evil  than  particular  injustice."  The  second  is  atten- 
ded with  no  greater  inconveniency  than  that  of  erecting  the  prac- 
tice of  the  law  into  a  separate  profession  ;  which  this  reason,  we 
allow,  makes  necessary ;  for  if  we  attribute  so  much  authority  to 
precedents,  it  is  expedient  that  they  be  known,  in  every  cause, 
both  to  the  advocates  and  to  the  judge  :  this  knowledge  cannot  be 
general,  since  it  is  the  fruit  oftentimes  of  laborious  research,  or  de- 
mands a  memory  stored  with  long-collected  erudition. 

To  a  mind  revolving  upon  the  subject  of  human  jurisprudence 
there  frequently  occurs  this  question ; — Why,  since  the  maxims  of 
natural  justice  are  few  and -evident,  do  there  arise  so  many  doubts 
and  controversies  in  the  application  ?  Or,  in  other  words,  how 
comes  it  to  pass,  that  although  the  principles  of  the  law  of  nature 
be  simple,  and  for  the  most  part  sufficiently  obvious,  there  should 
exist  nevertheless,  in  everj  system  of  municipal  laws,  and  in  the 
actual  administration  of  relative  justice,  numerous  uncertainties 
and  acknowledged  difficulties?  Whence,  it  ma}7  be  asked,  so  much 
room  for  litigation,  and  so  many  subsisting  disputes,  if  the  rules  of 
human  duty  be  neither  obscure  nor  dubious  ?  If  a  system  of  mo 
rality,  containing  both  the  precepts  of  revelation,  and  the  deduc 
tions  of  reason,  may  be  comprised  within  the  compass  of  one  mo- 
derate volume;  and  the  moralist  be  able,  as  he  pretends,  to  de- 
scribe the  rights  and  obligations  of  mankind,  in  all  the  different 
relations  they  may  hold  to  one  another;  what  need  of  those  codes 
of  positive  and  particular  institutions,  of  those  tomes  of  statutes 
and  reports,  which  require  the  employment  of  a  long  life  even  to 
peruse  ?  And  this  question  is  immediately  connected  with  the  ar- 
gument which  has  been  discussed  in  the  preceding  paragraph ;  for 


GF  JUSTICE.  293^ 

unless  (here  be  found  some  greater  uncertainty  in  the  law  of  na- 
ture, or  what  may  be  called  natural  equity,  when  it  comes  to  be 
applied  to  real  cases  and  to  actual  adjudication,  than  what  appears 
in  the  rules  and  principles  of  the  science,  as  delivered  in  the  wri- 
tings of  those  who  treat  of  the  'subject,  it  were  better  that  the  de- 
termination of  every  cause  should  be  left  to  the  conscience  of  thfc 
judge,  unfettered  by  precedents  and  authorities ;  since  the  very 
purpose  for  which-  these  are  introduced,  is  to  give  a  certainty  to 
judicial  proceedings,  which  such  proceedings  would  want  without 
them.- 

Now,  to  account  for  the  existence  of  so  many  sources  of  litiga- 
tion, notwithstanding  the  clearness  and  perfection  of  natural  justice 
it  should  be  observed,  in  the  first  place,  that  treatises  of  morality 
always  suppose  facts  to  be  ascertained;  and  not  only  so,  but  the 
intention  likewise  of  the  parties  to  be  known  and  laid  bare.  For 
example,  when  we  pronounce  that  promises  ought  to  be  fulfilled  in 
th*t  sense  in  which  the  promiser  apprehended,  at  the  time  of  ma- 
king the  promise,  the  other  party  received  and  understood  it :  the 
apprehension  of  one  side,  and  the  expectation  of  the  other,  must 
be  discovered,  before  this  rule  can  be  reduced-  to  practice,  or  ap- 
plied to  the  determination  of  any  actual  dispute.  Wherefore  the 
discussion  of  facts  which  the  moralist  supposes  to  be  settled,  the 
discovery  of  intentions  which  he  presumes  to  be  known,  still  re- 
main to  exercise  the  inquiry  of  courts  of  justice.  And  as  these 
facts  and  intentions  are  often  to  be  inferred,  or  rather  conjectured, 
from  obscure  indications,  from  suspicious  testimony,  or  from  a 
comparison  of  opposite  and  contending  probabilities,  they  afford 
a  never-failing  supply  of  doubt  and  litigation.  For  which  reason, 
as  hath  been  observed  in  a  former  part  of  this  Work,  the  science 
of  morality  is  to  be  considered  rather  as  a  direction  to  the  parties, 
who  are  conscious  of  their  own  thoughts,  and  motives,  and  designs, 
and  to  which  consciousness  the  teacher  of  morality  constantly  ap- 
peals, than  as  a  guide  to  the  judge,  or  to  any  third  person,  whose 
arbitration  must  proceed  upon  rules  of  evidence,  and  maxims  of 
credibility,  with  which  the  moralist  has  no  concern. 

Secondly.,  The're  exists  a  multitude  of  cases,  in  which  the  law  of 
nature,  that  is,  the  law  of  public  expediency,  prescribes  nothing, 
pxcept  that  some  certain  rule  be  adhered  to,  and  that  the  rule  ac- 
tually established  be  preserved ;  it  either  being  indifferent  what 
rule  obtains,  or,  out  of  many  rules,  no  one  being  so  much  more  ad- 
vantageous than  the  rest,  as  to  recompense  the  inconveniency  of 
an  alteration.  In  all  such  cases,  the  law  of  nature  sends  us  to  thr 
.  Jaw  of  the  land.  She  directs  either  that  some  fixed  rule  be  intro- 


-.'94  O 

duced  by  au  act  of  tlie  legislature,  or  that  the  rule  which  accident. 
or  custom,  or  common  consent,  hath  already  established,  be  stea- 
dily maintained.     Thus,  in  the  descent  of  lands,  or  the  inheritance 
of  personals  from  intestate  proprietors,  whether  the  kindred  of  the 
grand-mother,  or  of  the  great-grandmother,  shall  be  preferred  in 
the  succession ;    whether  the  degrees  of  consanguinity  shall  bo 
computed  through  the  common  ancestor,  or  from  him- ;  whether  the 
widow  shall  take  a  third  or  a  moiety  of  her  husband's  fortune  •, 
whether  sons  shall  be  preferred  to  daughters,  or  the  elder  to  the 
younger  ;  whether  the  distinction  of  age  shall  be  regarded  amongsl 
sisters,  as  well  as  between  brothers  ;  in  these,  and  in  a  great  vari- 
ety of  questions  which  the  same  subject  supplies,  the  law  of  nature 
determines  nothing.     The  only  answer  she  returns  to  our  inqui- 
ries is,  that  some  certain  and  general  rule  be  laid  down  by  public, 
authority  ;  be  obeyed  when   laid  down  ;  and  that  the  quiet  of  the 
country  be  not  disturbed,  nor  the  expectations  of  heirs  frustrated, 
by  capricious  innovations.     This  silence  or  neutrality  of  the  law  of 
nature,  which  we  have  exemplified  in  the  case  of  intestacy,  holds 
concerning  a  great  part  of  the  questions  that  relate  to  the  right  or 
acquisition  of  property".     Recourse,  then,  must  necessarily  be  had 
to  statutes,  or  precedents,  or  usage,  to  fix  what  the  law  of  nature 
has  left  loose.    The  interpretation  of  these  statutes,  the  search  after 
precedents,  the  investigation  of  custom,  compose  therefore  ah  un- 
avoidable, and  at  the   same  time  a  large  and  intricate  portion  01 
forensic  business.     Positive   constitutions   or  judicial   authorities 
are,  in  like  manner,    wanted  to   give  precision   to   many  things 
which  are  in  their  nature  indeterminate.     The  age  of  legal  discre- 
tion ;  at  which  time  of  life  a  person  shall  be  deemed  competent  to 
the  performance  of  any  act  which  may  bind  his  property  ;  wheth- 
er at  twenty,  or  twenty-one,  or  earlier  or  later,  or  at  some  point 
of  time  between  these  years,  can  only  be  ascertained  by  a  positive 
rule  of  the  society  to  which  the  party  belongs.     The  line  has  not 
been  drawn   by  nature, — the  human  understanding  advancing  to 
maturity  by  insensible  degrees,  and  its  progress  varying  in  differ- 
ent individuals.     Yet  it  is  necessary,  for  the  sake  of  mutual  secu- 
rity, that  a  precise  age  be  fix,ed,  and  that  what  is  fixed  be  known 
to  all.     It  is  on  these  occasions  that  the  intervention  of  law  sup- 
plies the  inconstancy  of  nature.     Again,  there  are  other  things 
which  are  perfectly  arbitrary,  and  capable  of  no  certainty  but 
what  is  given  to  them  by  positive  regulation.    It  is  necessary  that  B' 
limited  time  should  be  assigned  to  defendants,  to  plead  to  the  com- 
plaints alleged  against  them  ;  and  also  that  the  default  of.  pleading 
within  a  certain  time  should  be  taken  for  a  confession  of  the 


OF    JUSTICE. 

• -.barge;  but  to  how  many  days  or  months  that  term  should  be  ex- 
tended, though  necessary  to  be  known  with  certainty,  cannot  be 
known  at  all  by  any  information  which  the  law  of  nature  affords- 
And  the  same  remark  seems  applicable  to  almost  all  those  rules  of 
proceeding  which  constitute  what  is  called  the  practice  of  the 
court ;  as  they  cannot  be  traced  out  by  reasoning,  they  must  be 
-ettled  by  authority. 

Thirdly,  In  contracts,  whether  express  or  implied,  which  involve 
;\  great  number  of  conditions  :  as  in  those  which  are  entered  into 
between  masters  and  servants,  principals  and  agents ;  many  also 
of  merchandise,  or  for  works  of  art ;  in  some  likewise  which  re- 
late to  the  negotiation  of  money  or  bills,  or  to  the  acceptance  of 
credit  or  security  ;  the  original  design  and  expectation  of  the  par- 
ties was,  that  both  sides  should  be  guided  by  the  course  and  custom 
of  the  country  in  transactions  of  the  same  sort.  Consequently, 
when  these  contracts  come  to  be  disputed,  natural  justice  can  only 
refer  to  that  custom.  But  as  such  customs  are  not  always  sufficient- 
ly uniform  or  notorious,  but  often  to  be  collected  from  the  produc- 
tion and  comparison  of  instances  and  accounts  repugnant  to  one 
another ;  and  each  custom  being  only  that,  after  all,  which,  amongst 
a  variety  of  usages,  seems  to  predominate,  we  have  here  also  ample 
room  for  doubt  and  contest. 

Fourthly,  As  the  law  of  nature,  founded  in  the  very  construction 
of  human  society,  which  is  formed  to  endure  through  a  series  of  pe- 
rishing generations,  requires  that  the  just  engagements  a  man  en- 
ters into  should  continue  in  force  beyond  his  own  life ;  it  follows, 
that  the  private  rights  of  persons  frequently  3epend  upon  what  has 
been  transacted,  in  times  remote  from  the  present,  by  their  ances- 
tors or  predecessors,  by  those  under,  whom  they  claim,  or  to  whose 
obligations  they  have  succeeded.  Thus  the  questions  which  usually 
arise  between  lords  of  manors  and  their  tenants,  between  the 
king  and  those  who  claim  royal  franchises,  or  between  them  and 
the  persons  affected  by  these  franchises,  depend  upon  the  terms  of 
the  original  grant.  In  like  manner,  every  dispute  concerriing  tithes, 
in  which  an  exemption  or  composition  is  pleaded,  depends  upon  the 
agreement  which  took  place  between  the  predecessor  of  the  claim- 
ant and  the  ancient  owner  of  the  land.  The  appeal  to  these  grants 
and  agreements  is  dictated  by  natural  equity,  as  well  as  by  the  mu- 
nicipal law  :  but  concerning  the  existence,  of  such  old  covenants, 
doubts  will  perpetually  occur,  to  which  the  law  of  nature  affords 
no  solution.  The  loss  or  decay  of  records,  the  perishableness  of 
living  memory,  the  corruption  and  carelessness  of  tradition,  all  con- 
spire to  multiply  uncertainties  upon  this  head;  what  cannot  br  pro- 


296  •  OF    JUSTICE. 

duced  or  proved,  must  be  left  to  loose  and  fallible  presumption.  Un- 
der the  same  head  may  be  included  another  topic  of  altercation, — 
the  tracing-  out  of  bpundaries,  which  time,  or  neglect,  or  unity  of  pos- 
session, or  mixture  of  occupation,  have  confounded  or  obliterated. 
To  which  should  be  added,  a  difficulty  which  often  presents  itself 
in  disputes  concerning  rights  of  way,  both  public  and  private,  and 
of  those  easements  which  one  man  claims  in  another  man's  proper- 
ty; namely,  that  of  distinguishing,  after  a  lapse  of  years,  the  use  of 
an  indulgence  from  the  exercise  of  a  right. 

Fifthly,  The  quantity  or  extent  of  an  injury,  even  when  the 
cause  and  author  of  it  are  known,  is  often  dubious  and  undefined. 
If  the  injury  consist  in  the  loss  of  some  specific  right,  the  value  of 
the  right  measures  the  amount  of  the  injury  :  but  what  a  man  may 
have  suffered  in  his  person,  from  an  assault ;  in  his  reputation,  by 
slander ;  or  in  the  comfort  of  his  life,  by  the  seduction  of  a  wife 
or  daughter  ;  or  what  sum  of  money  shall  be  deemed  a  reparation 
for  the  damage,  cannot  be  ascertained  by  any  rules  which  the  law 
of  nature  supplies.  The  law  of  nature  commands,  that  reparation 
be  made ;  and  adds  to  her  command,  that,  when  the  aggressor  aud 
the  sufferer  disagree,  the  damage  be  assessed  by  authorized  aud  in- 
different arbitrators.  Here  then  recourse  must  be  had  to  courts 
of  law,  not  only  with  the  permission,  but  in  some  measures  by  the 
direction,  of  natural  justice. 

Sixthly,  When  controversies  arise  in  the  interpretation  of  written 
laws,  they  for  the  most  part  arise  upon  some  contingency  which 
the  composer  of  the  law  did  not  foresee  or  think  of.    In  the  adjudi- 
cation of  such  cases,  this  dilemma  presents  itself;  if  the  laws  be 
permitted  to  operate  only  upon  the  cases  which  were  actually  con- 
templated by  the  law-makers,  they  will  always  be  found  defective; 
if  theybe  extended  to  every  case  to  which  the  reasoning,  and  spi- 
rit, and  expediency  of  the  provision  seem  to  belong,  without  any 
further  evidence  of  the  intention  of  the  legislature,  we  shall  allow 
to  the  judges  a  liberty  of  applying  the  law,  which  will  fall  very  little 
short  of  the  power  of  making  it.     If  a  literal  construction  be  ad- 
hered to,  the  law  will  often  fail  of  its  end ;  if  a  loose  and  vague  ex- 
position be  admitted,  the  law  might  as  well  have  never  been  enact- 
ed ;  for  this  license  will  bring  back  into  the  subject  all  the  uncer- 
tainty  which  it  was  the  design  of  the  legislature  to  take  away. 
Courts  of  justice  are,  and  always  must  be,  embarrassed  by  these 
opposite  difficulties;  and,  as  it  can  never  be  known  beforehand, 
in  what  degree  either  consideration  may  prevail  in  the  mind  of  the 
iudge,  there  remains  an  unavoidable  cause  of  doubt  and  a  place 
for  contention. 


OF   JUSTICE. 

Seventhly,  The  deliberations  of  courts  of  justice  upon  every  new 
question,  are  encumbered  with  additional  difficulties,  in  conse- 
quence of  the'  authority  which  the  judgment  of  the  court  possesses, 
as  a  precedent  to  future  judicatures  ;  which  authority  appertains 
not  only  to  the  conclusions  the  court  delivers,  but  to  the  principles 
and  arguments  upon  which  they  are  built.  The  view  of  this  effect 
makes  it  necessary  for  a  judge  to  look  beyond  the  case  before  him ; 
and  beside  the  attention  he  owes  to  the  truth  and  justice  of  the 
cause  between  the  parties,  to  reflect  whether  the  principles,  and 
maxims,  and  reasoning,  which  he  adopts  and  authorises,  can  be  ap- 
plied with  safety  to  all  cases  which  admit  of  a  comparison  with 
the  present.  The  decision  of  the  cause,  were  the  effects  of  the  de- 
cision to  stop  there  might  be  easy ;  but  the  consequence  of  esta- 
blishing the  principle,  which  such  a  decision  assumes,  may  be  diffi- 
cult, though  of  the  utmost  importance,  to  be  foreseen  and  regu 
lated. 

Finally,  After  all  the  certainty  and  rest  that  can  be  given  to 
points  of  law,  either  by  the  interposition  of  the  legislature  or  the 
authority  of  precedents,  one  principal  source  of  disputation,  and 
into  which  indeed  the  greater  part  of  legal  controversies  may  foe 
resolved,  will  remain  still,  namely,  -'the  competition  of  opposite 
"analogies."  When  a  point  of  law  has  been  once  adjudged,  nei- 
ther that  question,  nor  any  which  completely  and  in  all  its  circum- 
stances, corresponds  with  that,  can  be  brought  a  second  time  into 
dispute :  but  questions  arise,  which  resemble  this  only  indirectly 
and  in  part,  in  certain  views  and  circumstances,  and  which  may 
seem  to  bear  an  equal  or  greater  affinity  to  other  adjudged  cases ; 
questions  which  can  be  brought  within  any  affixed  rule  only  bv 
analogy,  and  which  hold  a  relation  by  analogy  to  different  rules.  It  K 
by  the  urging  of  these  different  analogies  that  the  contention  of  the 
bar  is  carried  on  :  and  it  is  in  the  comparison,  adjustment,  and  re- 
conciliation of  them  with  one  another ;  in  the  discerning  of  such 
distinctions,  and  in  the  framing  of  such  a  determination,  as  may 
eith«?r  save  the  various  rules  alleged  in  the  cause,  or,  if  that  be  im- 
possible, may  give  up  the  weaker  analogy  to  the  stronger,  that  the 
sagacity  and  wisdom  of  the  court  are  seen  and  exercised.  Amongst 
a  thousand  instances  of  this,  we  may  cite  one  of  general  notoriety, 
in  the  contest  that  has  lately  been  agitated  concerning  literary  pro- 
perty. The  personal  industry  which  an  author  expends  upon  the 
composition  of  his  work,  bears  so  near  a  resemblance  to  that  by 
which  every  other  kind  of  property  is  earned,  or  deserved,  or  ac 
quired ;  or  rather  there  exists  such  a  correspondency  between  what 
is  created  by  the  study  of  a  man's  mind,  and  the  production  of  hi? 
26 


29fl  OF  JUSTICE, 

labour  in  any  other  way  of  applying  it,  that  he  seems  entitled  it* 
the  same  exclusive,  assignable,  and  perpetual  right  in  both  ;  and 
that  right  to  the  same  protection  of  law.  This  was  the  analogy 
contended  for  on  one  side.  On  the  other  hand,  a  book,  as  to  the 
author  s  right  in  it,  appears  similar  to  an  invention  of  art,  as  a  ma- 
chine, an  engine,  a  medicine  :  and  since  the  law  permits  these  to 
be  copied,  or  imitated,  except  where  an  exclusive  use  or  sale  is  re- 
served to  the  inventor  by  patent,  the  same  liberty  should  be  allow- 
ed in  the  publication  and  sale  of  books.  This  was  the  analogy 
maintained  by -the  advocates  of  an  open  trade.  And  the  competi- 
tion of  these  opposite  analogies  constituted  the  difficult}'  of  the 
case,  as  far  as  the  same  was  argued,  or  adjudged  upon  principles  of 
common  law. — One  example  may  serve  to  illustrate  our  meaning ; 
but  whoever  takes  up  a  volume  of  Reports,  will  find  most  of  the 
arguments  it  contains,  capable  of  the  same  analysis ;  although  the 
analogies,  it  must  be  confessed,  arc  sometimes  so  entangled  as  not 
to  be  easily  unravelled,  or  even  perceived. 

Doubtful  and  obscure  points  of  law  are  not,  however,  nearly  so 
numerous  as  they  are  apprehended  to  be.  Out  of  the  multitude  of 
causes  which,  in  the  course  of  each  year,  are  brought  to  trial  in 
the  metropolis,  or  upon  the  circuits,  there  are  few  in  which  any 
point  is  reserved  for  the  judgment  of  superior  courts.  Yet  these 
few  contain  all  the  doubts  with  which  the  law  is  chargeable  ;  for, 
as  to  the  rest,  the  uncertainty,  as  hath  been  shown  above,  is  not  it* 
•he  law,  but  in  the  means  of  human  information. 


THERE  are  two  peculiarities  in  the  judicial  constitution  of  this 
country,  which  do  not  carry  with  them  that  evidence  of  their  pro- 
priety which  recommends  almost  every  other  part  of  the  system. 
The  first  of  these  is  the  rule  which  requires  that  Junes  be  unan- 
imous in  their  verdicts.  To  expect  that  twelve  men,  taken  by  loc 
out  of  a  promiscuous  multitude,  should  agree  in  their  opinion  up- 
on points  confessedly  dubious,  and  upon  which  oftentimes  t\»g 
wisest  judgments  might  be  held  in  suspense  :  or  to  suppose  that 
any  real  unanimity,  or  change  of  opinion,  in  the  dissenting  jurors, 
could  be  procured  by  confining  them  until  they  all  consented  to 
the  same  verdict,  bespeaks  more  of  the  conceit  of  a  barbarous  age, 
than  of  the  policy  which  could  dictate  such  an  institution  as  that  of 
juries.  Nevertheless,  the  effects  of  this  rule  are  not  so  detrimental 
as  the  rule  itself  is  unreasonable.  In  criminal  prosecutions,  it  ope- 
rates considerably  in  favour  of  the  prisoner ;  for  if  a  juror  find  it 


OF    JUSTICE.  299 

accessary  to  surrender  to  the  obstinacy  of  others,  he  will  much 
more  readily  resign  his  opinion  on  the  side  of  mercy  than  of  con- 
demnation. In  civil  suits,  it  adds  weight  to  the  direction  of  the 
judge  ;  for,  when  a  conference  with  one  another  does  not  seem 
Hkely  to  produce  in  the  jury  the  agreement  that  is  necessary,  they 
will  naturally  close  their  disputes  by  a  common  submission  to  the 
opinion  delivered  from  the  bench.  However,  there  seems  to.  be 
less  of  the  concurrence  of  separate  judgments  in  the  same  conclu- 
sion, consequently,  less  assurance  that  the  conclusion  is  founded  in 
reasons  of  apparent  truth  and  justice,  than  if  the  decision  were  lefl 
to  a  plurality,  or  to  some  certain  majority  of  voices. 

The  second  circumstance  in  our  constitution,  which,  however  it 
may  succeed  in  practice,  does  not  seem  to  have  been  suggested  by 
any  intelligible  fitness  in  the  nature  of  the  thing,  is  the  choice 
that  is  made  of  the  House  of  Lords  as  a  court  of  appeal  from  ever}' 
civil  court  of  judicature  in  the  kingdom ;  and  of  the  last  also  and 
highest  appeal  to  which  the  subject  can  resort.  There  appears  to 
be  nothing  in  the  constitution  of  that  assembly  ;  in  the  education, 
habits,  character,  or  professions  of  the  members  who  compose  it ; 
in  the  mode  of  their  ap-pointment,  or  the  right  by  which  they  suc- 
ceed to  their  places  in  it,  that  should  qualify  them  for  this  arduous 
office  ;  except,  perhaps,  that  the  elevation  of  their  rank  and  for- 
tune affords  a  security  against  the  offer  and  influence  of  small 
bribes.  Officers  of  the  army  and  navy,  courtiers,  ecclesiastics  ; 
young  men  who  have  just  attained  the  age  of  twenty-one,  and  who 
have  passed  their  youth  in  the  dissipation  and  pursuits  which  com- 
monly accompany  the  possession  or  inheritance  of  great  fortunes  ; 
country  gentlemen,  occupied  in  the  management  of  their  estates, 
or  in  the  care  of  their  domestic  concerns  and  family  interests  ;  the 
greater  part  of  the  assembly  born  to  their  station,  that  is,  placed  in 
it  by  chance ;  most  of  the  rest  advanced  to  the  peerage  for  servi- 
ces, and  from  motives,  utterly  unconnected  with  legal  erudition : 
— these  men  compose  the  tribunal  to  which  the  constitution  en- 
trusts the  interpretation  of  her  laws,  and  the  ultimate  decision  of 
every  dispute  between  her  subjects,  these  are  the  men  assigned 
to  review  judgments  of  law,  pronounced  by  sages  of  the  profes- 
sion, who  have  spent  their  lives  in  the  study  and  practice  of  the  ju- 
risprudence of  their  country.  Such  is  the  order  which  our  ances- 
tors have  established.  The  effect  only  proves  the  truth  of  this 
maxim,  "  That  when  a  single  institution  is  extremely  dissonant 
-'  from  other  parts  of  the  system  to  which  it  belongs,  it  will  always 
;  find  some  way  of  reconciling  itself  to  the  analogy  which  governs 

and  pervades  the  rest."    By  constantly  placing  in  the  House  of 


300  OV    CRIMES 

Lords  some  of  the  most  eminent  and  experienced  lawyers  HI  thr> 
kingdom ;  by  calling  to  their  aid  the  advice  of  the  judges,  when 
any  abstract  question  of  law  awaits  their  determination ;  by  the 
almost  implicit  and  undisputed  deference,  which  the  uninformed 
part  of  the  house  find  it  necessary  to  pay  to  the  learning  of  their 
colleagues,  the  appeal  to  the  House  of  Lords  becomes  in  truth  an 
appeal  to  the  collected  wisdom  of  our  supreme  courts  of  justice  ; 
receiving,  indeed,  solemnity,  but  little  perhaps  of  direction  or  as- 
sistance, from  the  presence  of  the  assembly  in  which  it  is  heard 
and  determined. 

These  however,  even  if  real,  are  minute  imperfections.  A  po- 
litician, who  should  sit  down  to  delineate  a  plan  for  the  dispensa- 
tion of  public  justice,  guarded  against  all  access  to  influence  and 
corruption-,  and  bringing  together  the  separate  advantages  01 
knowledge  and  impartiality,  would  find,  when  he  had  done,  that 
he  had  been  transcribing  the  judicial  constitution  of  England. 
And  it  may  teach  the  most  discontented  amongst  us  to  acquiesce 
in  the  government  of  his  country,  to  reflect,  that  the  pure,  and 
wise,  and  equal  administration  of  laws,  forms  the  first  end  and 
blessing  of  social  union  ;  and  that  this  blessing  is  enjoyed  by  him 
in  a  perfection,  which  he  will  seek  in  vain  in  any  other  natioruoi 
(he  world. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

OP  CRIMES  AND  PUNISHMENTS. 

THE  proper  end  of  human  punishment  is,  not  the  satisfaction  01 
justice,  but  the  prevention  of  crimes.  By  the  satisfaction  of  jus- 
tice, 1  mean  the  retribution  of  so  much  pain  for  so  much  guilt: 
which  is  the  dispensation  we  expect  at  the  hand  of  God,  and  which 
ire  are  accustomed  to  consider  as  the  order  of  things  that  perfect 
justice  dictates  and  requires.  In  what  sense,  .or  whether  with 
truth  in  any  sense,  justice  may  be  said  to  demand  the  punishment  ol 
offenders,  1  do  not  now  inquire  ;  but  I  assert,  that  this  demand  is 
not  the  motive  or  occasion  of  human  punishment.  What  would  it 
be  to  the  magistrate,  that  offences  went  altogether  unpunished,  il 
die  impunity  of  the  offenders  were  followed  bv  no  danger  or  preju- 
dice to  the  commonwealth  ?  The  fear  lest  the  escape  of  the  crimi- 
nal should  encourage  him,  or  others  by  his  example,  to  repeat  the 
same  crime,  or  to  commit  different  crimes,  is  the  sole  considera- 
'ion  which  authorizes  the  infliction  of  punishment  by  human  laws. 


AND   PUNISHMENTS.  30 1 

Vow  that,  whatever  it  be,  which  is  the  cause  and  end  of  the  pun- 
ishment, ought  undoubtedly  to  regulate  the  measure  of  its  severity. 
But  this  cause  appears  to  be  founded,  not  in  the  guilt  of  the  offen- 
der, but  in  the  necessity  of  preventing  the  repetition  of  the  offence. 
And  from  hence  results  the  reason,  that  crimes  are  not  by  any  gov- 
ernment punished  in  proportion  to  their  guilt,  nor  in  all  cases  ought 
io  be  so,  but  in  proportion  to  the  difficulty  and  the  necessity  of  pre- 
venting them.  Thus,  the  stealing  of  goods  privately  out  of  a  shop, 
may  not,  in  its  moral  quality,  be  more  criminal  than  the  stealing 
of  them  out  of  a  house  ;  yet  being  equally  necessary,  and  more  dif- 
ficult, to  be  prevented,  the  la\v,  in  certain  circumstances,  denoun- 
ces against  it  a  severer  punishment.  The  crime  must  be  prevent- 
ed by  some  means  or  other ;  and  consequently,  whatever  means- 
appear  necessary  to  this  end,  whether  they  be  proportionable  to  the 
guilt  of  the  criminal  or  not,  are  adopted  rightly,  because  they  are 
adopted  upon  the  principle  which  alone  justifies  the  infliction  of 
punishment  at  all.  From  the  same  consideration  it  also  follows, 
that  punishment  ought  not  to  be  employed,  much  less  rendered  se- 
vere, when  the  crime  can  be  prevented  by  any  other  means.  Pun- 
ishment is  an  evil  to  which  the  magistrate  resorts  only  from  its  be- 
ing necessary  to  the  prevention  of  a  greater.  This  necessity  does 
not  exist,  when  the  end  may  be  attained,  that  is,  when  the  public 
may  be  defended  from  the  effects  of  the  crime,  by  any  other  expe 
dient.  The  sanguinary  laws  which  have  been  made  against  coun- 
terfeiting or  diminishing  the  gold  coin  of  the  kingdom  might  be 
just,  until  the  method  of  detecting  the  fraud,  by  weighing  the  mon- 
ey, was  introduced  into  general  usage.  Since  that  precaution  was 
practised,  these  laws  have  slept ;  and  an  execution  under  them, 
would  be  deemed  at  this  day  a  measure  of  unjustifiable  severity. 
The  same  principle  accounts  for  a  circumstance,  which  has  been 
often  censured  as  an  absurdity  in  the  penal  laws  of  this,  and  of 
most  modern  nations,  namely,  that  breaches  of  trust  are  either  not 
punished,  at  all,  or  punished  with  less  rigour  than  other  frauds. 
Wherefore  is  it,  some  have  asked,  that  a  violation  of  confidence, 
which  increases  the  guilt,  should  mitigate  the  penalty  ? — This  len- 
ity, or  rather  forbearnce,  of  the  laws,  is  founded  in  the  most  rea- 
sonable distinction.  A  due  circumspection  in  the  choice  of  the 
persons  whom  they  trust ;  caution  in  limiting  the  extent  of  that 
trust;  or  the  requiring  of  sufficient  security  for  tb«  faithful  dis- 
charge of  it,  will  commonly  guard  men  from  injuries  of  this  de- 
scription ;  and  the  law  will  not  interpose  its  sanctions  to  protecf 
negligence  and  credulity,  or  to  supply  the  pJace  of  domestic  care 
and  prudence.  To  be  convinced  that  the  law  proceeds  entirely 
26* 


J02  OF    CRIMES 

upon  this  consideration  we  have  only  to  observe,  that  where  the 
confidence  is  unavoidable,  where  no  practicable  vigilance  could 
watch  the  offender,  as  in  the  case  of  theft  committed  by  a  servant 
in  the*  shop  or  dwelling-house  of  his  master,  or  upon  property  to 
;vhich  he  must  necessarily  have  access,  the  "sentence  of  the  law  is 
not  less  severe,  and  its  execution  commonly  more  certain  and  rig- 
orous, than  if  no  trust  at  all  had  intervened. 

It  is  in  pursuance  of  the  same  principle,  which  pervades  indeed 
the  whole  system  of  penal  jurisprudence,  that  the  facility  with 
which  any  species  of  crimes  is  perpetrated,  has  been  generally 
deemed  a  reason  for  aggravating  the  punishment.  Thus,  sheep- 
stealing,  horse-stealing-,  the  stealing  of  cloth  from  tenters  or  bleach- 
ing grounds,  by  our  laws,  subject  the  offenders  to  sentence  of  death  ; 
not  that  these  crimes  are  in  their  nature  more  heinous,  than  many 
simple  felonies  which  are  punished  by  imprisonment  or  transporta- 
tion, but  because  the  property  being  more  exposed,  requires  the 
terror  of  capital  punishment  to  protect  it.  This  severity  would 
be  absurd  and  unjust,  if  the  guilt  of  the  offender  were  the  imme- 
diate cause  and  measure  of  the  punishment ;  but  is  a  consistent 
and  regular  consequence  of  the  supposition,  that  the  right  of  pun- 
ishment results  from  the  necessity  of  preventing  the  crime  :  for  it" 
this  be  the  end  proposed,  the  severity  of  the  punishment  must  be  in- 
creased in  proportion  to  the  expediency  and  the  difficulty  of  attain- 
ing this  end ;  that  is  in  a  proportion  compounded  of  the  mischief  of 
the  crime,  and  of  the  ease  with  which  it  is  executed.  The  difficulty 
of  discovery  is  a  circumstance  to  be  included  in  the  same  consid- 
eration. It  constitutes  indeed,  with  respect  to  the  crime,  the  facil- 
ity of  which  we  speak.  By  how  much  more  therefore  the  detec- 
tion of  an  offender  is  more  rare  and  uncertain,  by  so  much  the  more 
severe  must  be  the  punishment,  when  he  is  detected.  Thus  the 
writing  of  incendiary  letters,  though  in  itself  a  pernicious  and 
alarming  injury,  calls  for  a  more  condign  and  exemplary  punish- 
ment, by  the  very  obscurity  with  which  the  crime  is  committed. 

From  the  justice  of  God  we  are  taught  to  look  for  a  gradation 
of  punishment,  exactly  proportioned  to  the  guilt  of  the  offender  ; 
when,  therefore,  in  assigning  the  degrees  of  human  punishment,  we 
introduce  considerations  distinct  from  that  guilt,  and  a  proportion 
so  varied  by  external  circumstances,  that  equal  crimes  frequently 
undergo  unequal  punishments,  or  the  less  crime  the  greater ;  it  is 
natural  to  demand  the  reason  why  a  different  measure  of  punish- 
ment should  be  exp<?cted  from  God,  and  observed  by  man";  why  that 
rule,  which  befits  the  absolute  and  perfect  justice  of  the  Deity, 
should  not  be  the  rule  which  ought  to  be  pursued  and  imitated  by 


AND   PUNISHMENTS'.  303 

jiuman  laws  ?  The  solution  of  this  difficulty  must  be  sought  for  in 
those  peculiar  attributes  of  the  divine  nature,  which  distinguish  the 
dispensations  of  supreme  wisdom  from  the  proceedings  of  human 
judicature.  A  being',  whose  knowledge  penetrates  every  conceal- 
ment ;  from  the  operation  of  whose  will  no  art  or  flight  can  escape ; 
and  in  whose  hands  punishment  is  sure  ; — such  a  Being  may  con- 
duct the  moral  government  of  his  creation,  in  the  best  and  wisest 
manner,  by  pronouncing  a  law  that  every  crime  shall  finally  re- 
ceive a  punishment  proportioned  to  the  guilt  which  it  contains, 
abstracted  from  any  foreign  consideration  whatever  ;  and  may  tes- 
tify his  veracity  to  the  spectators  of  his  judgment,  by  carrying  this 
law  into  strict  execution.  But  when  the  care  of  the  public  safety 
is  intrusted  to  men,  whose  authority  over  their  fellow  creatures  is 
limited  by  defects  of  power  and  knowledge ;  from  whose  utmost  vi- 
gilance and  sagacity  the  greatest  offenders  often  lie  hid ;  whose  wi- 
sest precautions  and  speediest  pursuit  may  be  eluded  by  artifice  or 
concealment; — a  different  necessity,  a  new  rule  of  proceeding  re- 
sults from  the  very  imperfection  of  their  faculties.  In  their  hands  the 
uncertainty  of  punishment  must  be  compensated  by  the  severity. 
The  ease  with  which  crimes  are  committed  or  concealed,  must  be 
counteracted  by  additional  penalties  an'd  increased  terrors.  The 
very  end  for  which  human  government  is  established,  requires 
that  its  regulations  be  adapted  to  the  suppression  of  crimes.  This 
end,  whatever  it  may  do  in  the  plans  of  infinite  wisdom,  does  not, 
in  the  designation  of  temporal  penalties,  always  coincide  with  the 
proportionate  punishment  of  guilt. 

There  are  two  methods  of  administering  penal  justice. 
The  first  method  assigns  capital  punishments  to  few  offences, 
and  inflicts  it  invariably. 

The  second  method  assigns  capital  punishments  to  many  kinds  ot 
offences,  but  inflicts  it  only  upon  a  few  examples  of  each  kind. 

The  latter  of  which  two  methods  has  been  long  adopted  in  this 
country,  where,  of  those  who  receive  sentence  of  death,  scarce- 
ly one  in  ten  is  executed.  And  the  preference  of  this  to  the  for- 
mer method  seems  to  be  founded  in  the  consideration,  that  the  se- 
lection of  proper  objects  for  capital  punishment  principally  depends 
upon  circumstances,  which,  however  easy,  to  perceive  in  each  par- 
ticular case  after  the  crime  is  committed,  it  is  impossible  to  enu- 
merate or  define  beforehand  ;  or  to  ascertain,  however,  with  thai 
exactness,  which  is  requisite  in  legal  descriptions.'  Hence,  al- 
though it  be  necessary  to  fix  by  precise  rules  of  law,  the  boun- 
dary on  one  side,  that  is,  the  limit  to  which  the  punishment  may  be- 
friended ;  and  also  that  nothing  less  than  the  authority  of  the  whole 


,j04  or  CRIMES 

legislature  be  suffered  to  determine  that  boundai'y  and  assign  these 
rules  ;  yet  the  mitigation  of  punishment,  the  exercise  of  lenity, 
may,  without  danger,  be  intrusted  to  the  executive  magistrate, 
whose  discretion  will  operate  upon  those  numerous,  unforeseen, 
mutable,  and  indefinite  circumstances,  both  of  the  crime  and  the 
criminal,  which  constitute  or  qualify  the  malignity  of  each  offence, 
Without  the  power  of  relaxation  lodged  in  a  living  authority,  ei- 
ther some  offenders  would  escape  capital  punishment,  whom  the 
public  safety  required  to  suffer  ;  or  some  would  undergo  this  pun- 
ishment, where  it  was  neither  deserved  nor  necessary.  For  it 
judgment  of  death  were  reserved  for  one  or  two  spieces  of  crimes 
only,  which  would  probably  be  the  case,  if  that  judgment  was  in- 
tended to  be  executed  without  exception,  crimes  might  occur  of 
the  most  dangerous  example,  and  accompanied  with  circumstances 
of  heinous  aggravation,  which  did  not  fall  within  any  description  of 
offences  that  the  laws  had  made  capital,  and  which  consequently 
could  not  receive  the  punishment  their  own  malignity  and  the  pub- 
lic safety  required.  What  is  worse,  it  would  be  known  before- 
hand, tliat  such  crimes  might  be  committed  without  danger  to  the 
offender's  life.  On  the  other  hand,  if  to  reach  these  possible  cases, 
the  whole  class  of  offences  to  which  they  belong  be  subjected 
to  pains  of  death,  and  no  power  of  remitting  this  severity  remain 
any  where,  the  execution  of  the  laws  will  become  more  sanguina- 
ry than  the  public  compassion  would  endure,  or  than  is  necessary 
to  the  general  security. 

The  law  of  England  is  constructed  upon  a  different  and  a  better 
policy.  By  the  number  of  statutes  creating  capital  offences,  it 
sweeps  into  the  net  every  crime  which,  under  any  possible  circum- 
stances, may  merit  the  punishment  of  death  ;  but,  when  the  execu- 
tion of  this  sentence  comes  to  be  deliberated  upon,  a  small  propor- 
tion of  each  class  are  singled  out,  the  general  character,  or  the 
peculiar  aggravations,  of  whose  crimes  render  them  fit  examples 
of  public  justice.  By  this  expedient,  few  actually  suffer  death, 
whilst  the  dread  and  danger  of  it  hang  over  the  crimes  of  many. 
The  tenderness  of  the  law  cannot  be  taken  advantage  of.  The  life 
of  the  subject  is  spared  as  far  .as  the  necessity  of  restraint  and  inti- 
midation, permits  ;  yet  no.  one  will  adventure  upon  the  commission 
of  any  enormous  crime,  from  a  knowledge  that  the  laws  have  not 
provided  for  its  punishment.  The  wisdom  and  humanity  of  this 
design  furnish  a  just  excuse  for  the  multiplicity  of  capital  offences, 
which  the  laws  of  England  are  accused  of  creating  beyond  those 
of  other  countries.  The  charge  of  cruelty  is  answered  by  observ- 
ing, that  these  laws  were  never  meant  to  be  carried  into  indiscri- 


AND   PUNISHMENTS.  3&> 

'irniale  execution  ;  that  the  legislature,  when  it  establishes  its  last 
and  highest  sanctions,  trusts  to  the  benignity  of  the  crown  to  relax 
their  severity,  as  often  as  circumstances  appear  to  palliate  the  of- 
fence, or  even  as  often  as  those  circumstances  of  aggravation  are 
wanting,  which  rendered  this  rigorous  interposition  necessary. 
Upon  this  plan,  it  is  enongh  to  vindicate  the  lenity  of  the  laws, 
that  some  instances  are  to  be  found  in  each  class  of  capital  crimes, 
which  require  the  restraint  of  capital  punishment,  and  that  this 
restraint  could  not  be  applied  without  subjecting  the  whole  class  to 
the  same  condemnation. 

There  is  however  one  species  of  crimes,  the  making  of  which 
capital  can  hardly,  I  think,  be  defended  even  upon  the  comprehen- 
sive principle  just  now  stated ; — I  mean  that  of  privately  stealing 
trom  the  person.  As  every  degree  of  force  is  excluded  by  the  de- 
scription of  the  crime,  it  will  be  difficult  to  assign  an  example, 
where  either  the  amount  or  circumstances  of  the  theft  place  it  up- 
on a  level,  with  those  dangerous  attempts,  to  which  the  punishment 
of  death  should  be  confined.  It  will  be  still  more  difficult  to  show, 
that,  without  gross  and  culpable  negligence  on  the  part  of  the  suf- 
ferer, such  examples  can  ever  become  so  frequent,  as  to  make  it 
necessary  to  constitute,  a  class  of  capital  offences,  of  very  wide  and 
large  extent. 

The  prerogative  of  pardon  is  properly  reserved  to  the  chief  ma- 
gistrate. The  power  of  suspending  the  laws  is  a  privilege  of  too 
high  a  nature  to  be  committed  to  many  hands,  or  to  those  of  any 
inferior  officer  in  the  state.  The  king  also  can  best  collect  the  ad- 
vice by  which  his  resolutions  should  be  governed ;  and  is  at  the 
same  time  removed  at  the  greatest  distance  from  the  influence  of 
private  motives.  But  let  this  power  be  deposited  where  it  will, 
the  exercise  of  it  ought  to  be  regarded,  not  as  the  gift  of  a  favour 
to  be  yielded  to  solicitation,  granted  to  friendship,  or,  least  of  all, 
to  be  made  subservient  to  the  conciliating  or  gratifying  of  political 
attachments,  but  as  a  judicial  act  ;  as  a  deliberation  to  be  conduc- 
ted with  the  same  character  of  impartiality,  with  the  same  exact 
and  diligent  attention  to  the  proper  merits  and  reasons  and  circum- 
stances of  the  case,  as  that  which  the  judge  upon  the  bench  was 
expected  to  maintain  and  show  in  the  trial  of  the  prisoner's  guilt. 
The  questions,  whether  the  prisoner  be  guilty  ?  and  whether,  be- 
ing guilty,  he  ought  to  be  executed?  are  equally  questions  of  pub- 
lic justice.  The  adjudication  of  the  latter  question  is  as  much  a 
function  of  magistracy  as  the  trial  of  the  former.  The  public  wel- 
tare  is  interested  in  both.  The  conviction  of  an  offender  should 
•lepend  upon  nothing  but  the  proof  of  his  guilt;  nor  the  execution 


306  OP   CRIMES 

of  the  sentence  upon  any  thing  beside  the  quality  and  circumstan- 
ces of  his  crime.  It  is  necessary  to  the  good  order  of  society,  and 
to  the  reputation  and  authority  of  government,  that  this  be  known 
and  believed  to  be  the  case  in  each  part  of  the  proceeding.  Whicli 
reflections  show  that  the  admission  of  extrinsic  or  oblique  consid- 
erations, in  dispensing  the  power  of  pardon,  is  a  crime,  in  the  au- 
thors and  advisers  of  such  unmeritted  partiality,  of  the  same  na- 
ture with  that  of  corruption  in  a  judge. 

Aggravations  which  ought  to  guide  the  magistrate  in  the  selection 
of  objects  of  condign  punishment,  are  principally  these  three, — re- 
petition, cruelty,  combination.  The  two  first,  it  is  manifest  add  to 
every  reason  upon  which  the  justice  or  the  necessity  of  rigorous 
measures  can  be  founded ;  and,  with  respect  to  the  last  circum- 
stance, it  may  be  observed,  that  when  thieves  and  robbers  are  once 
collected  into  gangs,  their  violence  becomes  more  formidable,  the 
confederates  more  desperate,  and  the  difficulty  of  defending  the 
public  against  their  depredations  much  greater,  than  in  the  case  oi 
solitary  adventurers.  Which  several  considerations  compose  a  dis- 
tinction, that  is  properly  adverted  to,  in  deciding  xipon  the  fate  of 
convicted  malefactors. 

In  crimes,  however,  which  are  perpetrated  by  a  multitude,  or  by 
a  gang,  it  is  proper  to  separate,  in  the  punishment,  the  ringleader 
from  his  followers,  the  principal  from  his  accomplices,  and  even  the 
person  who  struck  the  blow,  broke  the  lock,  or  first  entered  the 
house,  from  those  who  joined  him  in  the  felony ;  not  so  much  on  ac- 
count of  any  distinction  in  the  guilt  of  the  offenders,  as  for  the 
sake  of  casting  an  obstacle  in  the  way  of  such  confederacies,  by 
rendering  it  difficult  for  the  confederates  to  settle  who  shall  begin 
the  attack,  or  to  find  a  man  amongst  their  number  willing  to  ex- 
pose himself  to  a  greater  danger  than  his  associates.  This  is  ano- 
ther instance  in  which  the  punishment,  which  expediency  directs^ 
does  not  pursue  the  exact  proportion  of  the  crime. 

Injuries  effected  by  terror  and  violence,  are  those  which  it  is  the 
first  and  chief  concern  of  legal  government  to  repress  ;  because 
their  extent  is  unlimited  ;  because  no  private  precaution  can  pro- 
tect the  subject  against  them  ;  -because  they  endanger  life  and  safe- 
ty, as  well  as  property ;  and  lastly,  because  they  render  the  condi- 
tion of  society  wretched,  by  a  sense  of  personal  insecurity.  These 
reasons  do  not  apply  to  frauds  which  circumspection  may  prevent; 
which  must  wait  for  opportunity ;  which  can  proceed  only  to  cer- 
tain limits;  and,  by  the  apprehension  of  which,  although  the  busi- 
ness of  life  be  incommoded,  life  itself  is  not  made  miserable.  The 
Appearance  of  this  distinction  has  led  some  humane  writers  to  ex- 


A>'D    PUNISHMENTS.  307 

press  a  wish,  that  capital  punishments  might  be  confined  to  crimes 
of  violence. 

In  estimating1  the  comparative  malignancy  of  crimes  of  violence, 
regard  is  to  be  had,  not  only  to  the  proper  and  intended  mischief 
of  the  crime,  but  to  the  fright  occasioned  by  the  attack,  to  the  gene- 
ral alarm  excited  by  it  in  others,  and  to  the  consequences  which 
may  attend  future  attempts  of  the  same  kind.  Thus,  in  affixing 
the  punishment  of  burglary,  or  of  breaking  into  dwelling-houses  by 
night,  we  are  to  consider,  not  only  the  peril  to  which  the  most  valua- 
ble property  is  exposed  by  this  crime,  and  which  may  be  called  the 
direct  mischief  of  it,  but  the  danger  also  of  murder  in  case  of  re- 
sistance, or  for  the  sake  of  preventing  discovery,  and  the  universal 
dread  with  which  the  silent  and  defenceless  hours  of  rest  and  sleep 
must  be  disturbed,  were  attempts  of  this  sort  to  become  frequent : 
and  which  dread  alone,  even  without  the  mischief  which  is  the  ob- 
ject of  it,  is  not  only  a  public  evil,  but  almost  of  all  evils  the  most 
insupportable.  These  circumstances  places  a  difference  between 
the  breaking  into  a  dwelling-house  by  day,  and  by  night ;  which 
difference  obtains  in  the  punishment  of  the  offence  by  the  law  of 
Moses,  and  is  probably  to  be  found  in  the  judicial  codes  of  most 
countries  from  the  earliest  ages  to  the  present. 

Of  frauds,  or  of  injuries  which  are  effected  without  force,  the 
most  noxious  kinds  are, — forgeries,  counterfeiting  or  diminishing 
of  the  coin,  and  the  stealing  of  letters  in  the  course  of  their  con- 
veyance ;  inasmuch  as  these  practices  tend  to  deprive  the  public 
of  accommodations,  which  not  only  improve  the  conveniences  of 
social  life,  but  are  essential  to  the  prosperity,  and  even  the  exis- 
tence of  commerce.  Of  these  crimes  it  may  be  said,  that  although 
they  seem  to  affect  property  alone,  the  mischief  of  their  operation 
does  not  terminate  there.  For,  let  it  be  supposed,  that  the  remiss- 
ness  or  lenity  of  the  laws  should,  in  any  country,  suffer  offences  of 
i his  sort  to  grow  into  such  a  frequency,  as  to  render  the  use  of  mo- 
nev,  the  circulation  of  bills,  or  the  public  conveyance  of  letters,  no 
longer  safe  or  practicable ;  what  would  follow,  but  that  every  spe- 
cies of  trade  and  of  activity  must  decline  under  these  discourage- 
ments ;  the  sources  of  subsistence  fail,  by  which  the  inhabitants  of 
the  country  are  supported  ;  the  country  itself,  where  the  inter- 
course of  civil  life  was  so  endangered  and  defective,  be  deserted; 
and  that,  beside  the  distress  and  poverty  which  the  loss  of  employ- 
ment would  produce  to  the  industrious  and  valuable  part  of  the 
existing  community,  a  rapid  depopulation,  must  take  place,  each 
generation  becoming  less  numerous  than  the  la*t  ;  till  solitude  and 
barrenness  overspread  the  land;  until  a  desolation  similar  to  whof 


308  OF    CRIMES 

obtains  in  many  countries  of  Asia,  which  were  once  the  most  civi 
lized  and  frequented  parts  of  the  world,  succeed  in  the  place  of 
crowded  cities,  of  cultivated  fields,  of  happy  and  well  peopled  re- 
gions ?  When  we  carry  forward  therefore  our  views  to  the  more 
distant,  but  not  less  certain  consequences  of  these  crimes,  we  per- 
ceive that  though  no  living  creature  be  destroyed  by  them,  yet  hu- 
man life  is  diminished ;  that  an  offence,  the  particular  consequence 
of  which  deprives  only  an  individual  of  a  small  portion  of  his  pro- 
perty, and  which  even  in  its  general  tendency  seems  only  to  ob- 
struct the  enjoyment  of  certain  public  conveniences,  may,  never- 
theless, by  its  ultimate  effects,  conclude  in  the  laying  waste  of  hu- 
man existence.  This  observation  will  enable  those  who  regard 
the  divine  rule  of  "  life  for  life,  and  blood  for  blood,"  as  the  only 
authorized  and  justifiable  measure  of  capital  punishment,  to  per- 
ceive, witb  respect  to  the  effects  and  quality  of  the  actions,  a  greater 
resemblance  than  they  suppose  to  exist  between  certain  atrocious 
frauds,  and  those  crimes  which  attack  personal  safety. 

In  the  case  of  forgeries,  there  appears  a  substantial  difference 
between  the  forging  of  bills  of  exchange,  or  of  securities  which  arc 
circulated,  and  of  which  the  circulation  and  currency  are  found  to 
serve  and  facilitate  valuable  purposes  of  commerce  ;  and  the  forg- 
ing of  bonds,  leases,  mortgages,  or  of  instruments  which  are  not 
commonly  transferred  from  one  hand  to  another ;  because,  in  the 
former  case  credit  is  necessarily  given  to  the  signature,  and  with- 
out that  credit  the  negociation  of  such  property  could  not  be  car- 
ried on,  nor  the  public  utility,  sought  from  it,  be  attained:  in  the 
other  case,  all  possibility  of  deceit  might  be  precluded,  by  a  direct 
communication  between  the  parties,  or  by  due  care  in  the  choice 
of  their  agents,  with  little  interruption  to  business,  and  without  de- 
stroying, or  much  encumbering,  the  uses  for  which  these  instru- 
ments are  calculated.  This  distinction  I  apprehend  to  be  not  only 
real,  but  precise  enough  to  afford  a  line  of  division  between  forge- 
ries, which,  as  the  law  now  stands,  are  almost  universally  capital, 
and  punished  with  undistinguishing  severity. 

Perjury  is  another  crime  of  the  same  class  and  magnitude.  And. 
when  we  consider  what  reliance  is  necessarily  placed  upon  oaths : 
that  all  judicial  decisions  proceed  upon  testimony  ;  that  consequent- 
ly there  is  not  a  right  that  a  man  possesses,  of  which  false  witnesses 
may  not  deprive  him  ;  that  reputation,  property,  and  life  itself,  lie- 
open  to  the  attempts  of  perjury ;  that  it  may  often  be  committed 
without  a  possibility  of  contradiction  or  discovery ;  that  the  success 
and  prevalency  of  this  vice  tend  to  introduce  the  most  grievous 
and  fatal  injustice  into  the  administration  of  human  affairs,  or  such 


AND   PUNISHMENTS.  309 

i  distrust  of  testimony  as  must  create  universal  embarrassment  and 
confusion : — when  we  reflect  upon  these  mischiefs,  we  shall  be 
brought,  probably,  to  agree  with  the  opinion  of  those,  who  contend 
that  perjury,  in  its  punishment,  especially  that  which  is  attempted 
in  solemn  evidence,  and  in  the  face  of  a  court  of  justice,  should  be 
placed  upon  a  level  with  the  most  flagitious  frauds. 

The  obtaining  of  money  by  secret  threats,  whether  we  regard 
the  difficulty  with  which  the  crime  is  traced  out,  the  odious  imputa- 
tions to  which  it  may  lead,  or  the  profligate  conspiracies,  that  are 
sometimes  formed  to  carry  it  into  execution,  deserves  to  be  reck- 
oned amongst  the  worst  species  of  robbery. 

The  frequency  of  capital  executions  in  this  country,  [owes  its 
necessity  to  three  causes; — much  liberty,  great  cities,  and  the  want, 
of  a  punishment  short  of  death,  possessing  a  sufficient  degree  of 
terror.  And  if  the  taking  away  of  the  life  of  malefactors,  be  more 
rare  in  other  countries  than  in  ours,  the  reason  will  be  found  in 
some  difference  in  these  articles.  The  liberties  of  a  free  people, 
and  still  more  the  jealousy  with  which  these  liberties  are  watched, 
and  by  which  they  are  preserved,  permit  not  those  precautions  and 
restraints, 'that  inspection,  scrutiny,  and  control,  which  are  exer- 
cised with  success  in  arbitrary  governments.  For  example,  nei- 
ther the  spirit  of  the  laws,  nor  of  the  people,  will  suffer  the  deten- 
tion or  confinement  of  suspected  persons,  without  proof  of  their 
guilt,  which  is  often  impossible  to  obtain ;  nor  will  they  allow  mas- 
ters of  families  to  be  obliged  to  record  and  render  up  a  description 
of  the  strangers  or  inmates  whom  they  entertain ;  nor  that  an  ac- 
count be  demanded,  at  the  pleasure  of  the  magistrate,  of  each 
man's  time,  employment,  and  means  of  subsistence ;  nor  securi- 
ties to  be  required  when  these  accounts  appear  unsatisfactory  or 
dubious ;  nor  men  to  be  apprehended  upon  the  mere  suggestion  of 
idleness  or  vagrancy ;  nor  to  be  confined  to  certain  districts ;  nor 
the  inhabitants  of  each  district  to  be  made  responsible  for  one  ano- 
other's  behaviour ;  uor  passports  to  be  exacted  from  all  persons  en- 
tering or  leaving  the  kingdom.  Least  of  all  will  they  tolerate  tho 
appearance  of  an  armed  force,  or  of  military  law ;  or  suffer  the 
-treets  and  public  roads  to  be  guarded  and  patroled  by  soldiers ; 
or,  lastly,  intrust  the  police  with  such  discretionary  powers,  as  may 
make  sure  of  the  guilty,  however  they  involve  the  innocent.  These 
expedients,  although  arbitrary  and  rigorous,  are  many  of  them  ef- 
fectual ;  and  in  proportion  as  they  render  the  commission  or  con ; 
cealment  of  crimes  more  difficult,  they  substract  from  the  necessity 

if  severe  punishment. — Great  cities  multiply  crimes,  by  presenting 
27 

• 


3(0  Of    CRTMLs 

easier  opportunities  anil  more  incentives  to  libertinism,  Vriiieii  u! 
low  life  is  commonly  the  introductory  stage  to  other  enormities ;  bj 
collecting1  thieves  and  robbers  into  the  same  neighbourhood,  which 
enables  them  to  form  communications  and  confederacies,  that  in- 
crease their  art  and  courage,  as  well  as  strength  and  wickedness  ; 
but  principally  by  the  refuge  they  afford  to  villany,  in  the  means  oi 
concealment,  and  of  subsisting  in  secrecy,  which  crowded  towns 
supply  to  men  of  every  description.  These  temptations  and  facilities 
can  only  be  counteracted  by  adding  to  the  number  of  capital  pun- 
ishments.— But  a  third  cause,  which  increases  the  frequency  oi 
capital  executions  in  England,  is  a  defect  in  the  laws,  in  not  being 
provided  with  any  other  punishment  than  that  of  death,  sufficiently 
terrible  to  keep  offenders  in  awe.  Transportation,  which  is  the 
sentence  second  in  the  order  of  severitv,  appears  to  me  to  answer 
I  he  purpose  of  example  veiy  imperfectly  ;  not  only  because  exile 
is  in  reality  a  slight  punishment  to  those  who  have  neither  proper- 
ty, nor  friends,  nor  reputation,  nor  regular  means  of  subsistence  at 
home,  and  because  their  situation  becomes  little  worse  by  then 
crime  than  it  was  before  they  committed  it ;  but  because  the  punish- 
ment, whatever  it  be,  is  unobserved  and  unknown.  A  transported 
convict  may  suffer  under  his  sentence,  but  his  sufferings  are  re- 
moved from  the  view  of  his  countrymen  ;  his  misery  is  unseen  ;  hh 
condition  strikes  no  terror  into  the  minds  of  those,  for  whose  warn- 
ing and  admonition  it  was  intended.  This  chasm  in  the  scale  oi 
punishment  produces  also  two  further  imperfections  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  penal  justice ;  the  first  is,  that  the  same  punishment  is 
extended  to  crimes  of  very  different  character  and  malignancy : 
the  second,  that  punishments  separated  by  a  great  interval,  are  as- 
signed to  crimes  hardly  distinguishable  in  their  guilt  and  mischief. 
The  end  of  punishment  is  two-fold — amendment  and  example. 
(OL  the  first  of  these,  the  reformation  of  criminals,  little  has  ever 
been  effected,  and  little  I  fear,  is  practicable.  From  every  species 
of  punishment  that  has  hitherto  been  devised,  from  imprisonment 
and  exile,  from  pain  and  infamy,  malefactors  return  more  harden- 
ed in  their  crimes,  and  more  instructed.  If  there  be  any  (hing 
that  shakes  the  soul  of  a  confirmed  villain,  it  is  the  expectation  of 
approaching  death.  The  horrors  of  this  situation  may  cause  such 
a  wrench  in  the  mental  organs,  as  to  give  them  a  holding  turn  ; 
and  I  think  it  probable,  that  many  of  those  who  are  executed, 
would,  if  they  were  delivered  at  the  point  of  death,  retain  such  a 
remembrance  of  their  sensations,  as  might  preserve  them,  unless 
urged  by  extreme  want,  from  relapsing  into  their  former  crimes- 


AND   PT7KISIiai£>TTfc.  311 

But  thio  is  an  experiment  that,  from  its  nature,  cannot  be  repeated 
often. 

Of  the  reforming  punishments  which  have  not  yet  been  trieil. 
none  promises  so  much  success  as  that  of  solitary  imprisonment, 
or  the  confinement  of  criminals  in  separate  apartments.  This  im- 
provement would  augment  the  terror  of  the  punishment ;  would 
seclude  the  criminal  from  the  society  of  his  fellow-prisoners,  in 
which  society  the  worse  are  sure  to  corrupt  the  better  ;  would 
wean  him  from  tiie  knowledge  of  his  companions,  and  from  the 
love  of  that  turbulent,  precarious  life,  in  which  his  vices  had  en- 
gaged him  ;  would  raise  up  in  him  reflections  on  the  folly  of  his 
choice,  and  dispose  his  mind  to  such  bitter  and  continued  peni- 
tence, as  might  produce  a  lasting  alteration  in  the  principles  of 
his  conduct. 

As  aversion  to  labour  is  the  cause  from  which  half  of  the  vices  of 
low  life  deduce  their  origin  and  continuance,  punishments  ought  to 
be   contrived  with  a  view  to  the  conquering  of  this  disposition. 
Two  opposite  expedients  have  been  recommended  for   this  pur- 
pose ;  the  one,  solitary  confinement,  with  hard  labour  ;  the  other, 
solitary  confinement  with  nothing  to  do.     Both  expedients  seek 
the  same  end  ; — to  reconcile   the  idle  to  a  life  of  industry.     The 
former  hopes  to  effect  this  by  making  labour  habitual ;  the  latter, 
by  making  idleness  irksome  and  insupportable  :  and  the  preference 
of  one  method  to  the  other  depends  upon  the  question,  whether  a. 
man  is  more  likely  to  betake  himself,  of  his  own  accord,  to  work, 
who  has  been  accustomed  to  employment,   or  who  has  been  dis- 
tressed by  the  want  of  it.     When  gaols  are  once  provided  for  the 
separate  confinement  of  prisoners,  which  both  proposals  require, 
the  choice  between  them  may  soon  be  determined  by  experience. 
If  labour  be  exacted,  I  would  leave  the  whole,  or  a  portion  of  the 
profit  to  the  prisoner's  use,  and  I  would  debar  him  from  any  other 
provision  or  supply ;  that  this  subsistence,  however  coarse  or  pe- 
nurious, may  be  proportioned  to  his  diligence,  and  that  he  may 
taste  the  advantage  of  industry,  together  with  the  toil.    I  would  go 
further;   I  would  measure  the  confinement,  not  by  duration  of 
time,  but  by  quantity  of  work,  in  order  both  to  excite  industry, 
and  to  render  it  more  voluntary.     But  the  principal  difficulty  re- 
mains still;  namely,  how  to  dispose  of  criminals  after  their  enlarge- 
ment.    By  a  rule  of  life,  which  is  perhaps  too  invariably  and  in- 
discriminately adhered  to,  no  one  will  receive  a  man  or  woman  out 
of  gaol,  into  any  service  or  employment  whatever.     This  is  the 
Common  misfortune  of  public  punishments,  that  they  preclude  the 


>'!•-'  Oi1    CRIMES 

offender  from  all  honest  means  of  future  support.*  It  seems  in- 
cumbent upon  the  State  to  secure  a  maintenance  to  those  who  arc 
willing  to  wo,rk  for  it ;  and  yet  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  divide 
criminals  as  far  asunder  from  one  another  as  possible.  Whether 
male  prisoners  might  not,  after  the  term  of  their  confinement  wai- 
cxpired,  be  distributed  in  the  country,  detained  within  certain  lim- 
its, and  employed  upon  the  publick  roads  ;  and  females  be  remit- 
ted to  the  overseers  of  country  parishes,  to  be  there  furnished  with 
dwellings,  and  with  the  materials  and  implements  of  occupation  ; 
whether  by  these,  or  by  what  other  methods,  it  may  be  possible  to 
effect  the  two  purposes  of  employment  and  dispersion,  well  merit? 
the  attention  of  all  who  are  anxious  to  perfect  the  internal  regula- 
tion of  their  country. 

Torture  is  applied  either  to  obtain  confession  of  guilt,  or  to  ex- 
asperate or  prolong  the  pains  of  death.  No  bodily  punishment, 
however  excrutiating  or  long  continued,  receives  the  name  of  tor- 
lure,  unless  it  be  designed  to  kill  the  criminal  by  a  more  lingering 
death  ;  or  to  extort  from  him  the  discovery  of  some  secret,  which 
is  supposed  to  lie  concealed  in  his  breast.  The  question  by  tortun 
appears  to  be  equivocal  in  its  effects  ;  .for,  since  extremity  of  pain, 
and  not  any  consciousness  of  remorse  in  the  mind,  produces  those 
effects,  an  innocent  man  may  sink  under  the  torment  as  soon  as  the 
guilty.  The  latter  has  as  much  to  fear  from  yielding  as  the  for- 
mer. The  instant  and  almost  irresistible  desire  of  relief  may  draw 
from  one  sufferer  false  accusations  of  himself  or  others,  as  it  may 
sometimes  extract  the  truth  out  of  another.  This  ambiguity  render? 
!he  use  of  torture,  as  a  means  of  procuring  information  in  criminal 
proceedings,  liable  to  the  risk  of  grievous  and  irreparable  injustice. 
For  which  reason,  though  recommended  by  ancient  and  genera' 
example,  it  has  been  properly  exploded  from  the  mild  and  cau- 
tious system  of  penal  jurisprudence  established  in  this  countiy. 

Barbarous  spectacles  of  human  agony,  are  justly  found  fault 
ivith,  as  tending  to  harden  and  deprave  the  public  feelings,  and  to 
destroy  that  sympathy  with  which  the  sufferings  of  our  fellow  crea- 
tures ought  always  to  be  seen  ;  or,  if  no  effect  of  this  kind  follow 
from  them,  they  counteract  in  some  measure  their  own  design,  by 
sinking  men's  abhorrence  of  the  criminal.  But  if  a  mode  of  exe- 
cution could  be  devised  which  would  zfugment  the  horror  of  the 
punishment,  without  offending  or  impairing  the  public  sensibility 
by  cruel  or  unseemly  exhibitions  of  death,  it  might  add  something 

*  Until  this  inconvenience  be  remedied,  small  offences  had  perhaps  better  go 
Unpunished.  I  do  not  mean  that  the  law  should  exempt  them  from  punishment 
>«tt  that  private  persons  should  be  tender  in  prosecuting  them. 


AND   PUNISHMENTS.  313 

to  tLe  efficacy  of  the  example  ;  and  by  being  reserved  for  a  few 
atrocious  crimes,  might  also  enlarge  the  scale  of  punishment  ;  an 
addition  to  which  seems  wanting  ;  for  as  the  matter  remains  at 
present,  you  hang  a  malefactor  for  a  single  robbery,  and  can  do  no 
more  to  the  villain  who  has  poisoned  his  father.  Somewhat  of  the 
sort  we  have  been  describing,  was  the  proposal,  not  long  since  sug- 
gested, of  casting  murderers  into  a  den  of  wild  beasts,  where  they 
would  perish  in  a  manner  dreadful  to  the  imagination,  yet  conceal- 
ed from  the  view. 

Infamous  punishments  are  mismanaged  in  this  country,  with  re- 
spect both  to  the  crimes  and  the  criminals.  In  the  first  place,  they 
ought  to  be  confined  to  offences  which  are  held  in  undisputed  and 
universal  detestation.  To  condemn  to  the  pillory  the  author  or 
editor  of  a  libel  against  the  State,  who  has  rendered  himself  the 
favourite  of  a  party,  if  not  of  the  people,  by  the  very  act  for  which 
he  stands  there,  is  to  gratify  the  offender,  and  to  expose  the  laws  to 
mockery  and  insult.  In  the  second  place,  the  delinquents  who  re- 
ceive this  sentence,  are  for  the  most  part  such  as  have  long  ceased 
cither  to  value  reputation,  or  to  fear  shame  ;  of  whose  happiness, 
and  of  whose  enjoyments,  character  makes  no  part.  Thus  the 
low  ministers  of  libertinism,  the  keepers  of  bawdy  or  disorderly 
houses,  are  threatened  in  vain  with  a  punishment  that  affects  a 
sense  which  .they  have  not ;  that  applies  solely  to  the  imagination, 
to  the  virtue  'and  the  pride  of  human  nature.  The  pillory,  or  any 
other  infamous  distinction,  might  be  employed  rightly,  and  with 
effect,  in  the  punishment  of  some  offences  of  higher  life  ;  as  of 
frauds  and  peculation  in  office  ;  of  collusions  and  connivances,  by 
which  the  public  treasury  is  defrauded  ;  of  breaches  of  trust  ;  of 
perjury  and  subornation  of  perjury  ;  of  the  clandestine  and  forbid- 
den sale  of  places  ;  of  flagrant  abuses  of  authority,  or  neglect  of 
duty  ;  and  lastly,  of  corruption  in  the  exercise  of  confidential  or 
judicial  offices.  In  all  which,  the  more  elevated  was  the  station  of 
the  criminal,  the  more  signal  and  conspicuous  would  be  the  tri- 
umph of  justice. 

The  certainty  of  punishment  is  of  more  consequence  than  the  se- 
verity. Criminals  do  not  so  much  natter  themselves  with  the  leni- 
iy  of  the  sentence,  as  with  the  hope  of  escaping.  They  are  not 
so  apt  to  compare  what  they  gain  by  the  crime  with  what  they  may 
suffer  from  the  punishment,  as  to  encourage  themselves  with  the 
chance  of  concealment  or  flight.  For  which  reason,  a  vigilant 
magistracy,  an  accurate  police,  a  proper  distribution  of  force  and 
intelligence,  together  with  due  rewards  for  the  discovery  and  ap- 
prehension of  malefactors,  and  an  undeviating  impartiality  in  car- 


314  OF    CRIMES 

lying  tlic  laws  into  execution,  contribute  more  to  the  restraint  and 
suppression  of  crimes  than  any  violent  exacerbations  of  punish- 
ment. And  for  the  same  reason,  of  all  contrivances  directed  to 
this  end,  those  perhaps  are  most  effectual  which  facilitate  the  con- 
viction of  criminals.  The  offence  of  counterfeiting  the  coin  could 
not  be  checked  by  all  the  terroi's  and  the  utmost  severity  of  law. 
whilst  the  act  of  coining-  was  necessary  to  be  established  by  speci- 
fic proof.  The  statute  which  made  the  possession  of  the  implements 
of  coining  capital,  that  is,  which  constituted  that  possession  com- 
plete evidence  of  the  offender's  guilt,  was  the  first  thing  that  gave 
force  and  efficacy  to  the  denunciations  of  law  upon  this  subject. 
The  statute  of  James  the  first,  relative  to  the  murder  of  bastard 
children,  which  ordains  that  the  concealment  of  the  birth  should 
be  deemed  incontestible  proof  of  the  charge,  though  a  harsh  law. 
was,  in  like  manner  with  the  former,  well  calculated  to  put  a  stop 
to  the  crime. 

It  is  upon  the  principle  of  this  observation,  that  I  apprehend 
much  harm  to  have  been  done  to  the  community,  by  the  overstrain- 
ed scrupulousness,  or  weak  timidity  of  juries,  which  demands  often 
such  a  proof  of  a  prisoner's  guilt,  as  the  nature  and  secrecy  of  his 
crime  scarce  possibly  admit  of ;  and  which  holds  it  the  part  of 
a  safe  conscience  not  to  condemn  any  man,  whilst  there  exists 
the  minutest  possibility  of  his  innocence.  Any  story  they  may 
happen  to  have  heard  or  read,  whether  real  or  feigned,  in  which 
courts  of  justice  have  been  misled  by  presumptions  of  guilt,  is 
enough,  in  their  minds,  to  found  an  acquittal  upon,  where  positive 
proof  is  wanting.  I  do  not  mean  that  juries  should  indulge  conjee- 
lures,  should  magnify  suspicions  into  proofs,  or  even  that  they  should 
weigh  probabilities  in  gold  scales  ;  but  when  the  preponderation  oi 
evidence  is  so  manifest  as  to  persuade  every  private  understanding 
of  the  prisoner's  guilt ;  when  it  furnishes  that  degree  of  credibility, 
upon  which  men  decide  and  act  in  all  other  doubts,  and  which  ex- 
perience hath  shown  that  they  may  decide  and  act  upon  with  suffi- 
cient safety :  to  reject  such  proof,  from  an  insinuation  of  uncer- 
tainty that  belongs  to  all  human  affairs,  and  from  a  general  dread 
lest  the  charge  of  innocent  blood  should  lie  at  their  doors,  is  a  con- 
duct which,  however  natural  to  a  mind  studious  of  its  own  quiet,  is 
authorized  by  no  considerations  of  rectitude  or  utility.  It  counter- 
acts the  care,  and  damps  the  activity  of  government ;  it  holds  out 
public  encouragement  to  villany,  by  confessing  the  impossibility  ol 
bringing  villains  to  justice ;  and  that  species  of  encouragement 
which  as  hath  been  just  now  observed,  the  minds  of  such  men  arf 
most  P-pt  to  entertain  and  dwell  xipon. 


AND   PUNISHMENTS. 

There  are  two  popular  maxims,  which  seem  to  have  a  conside- 
rable influence  in  producing-  the  injudicious  acquittals  of  which 
we  complain.  One  is,  "  That  circumstantial  evidence  falls  short 
"  of  positive  proof."  This  assertion  in  the  unqualified  sense  in 
which  it  is  applied,  is  not  true.  A  concurrence  of  well  authentica- 
ted circumstances  composes  a  stronger  ground  of  assurance  than 
positive  testimony,  unconfirmed  by  circumstances,  usually  affords. 
Circumstances  cannot  lie.  The  conclusion  also  which  results  from 
them,  though  deduced  by  only  probable  inference  is  commonly 
more  to  be  relied  upon,  than  the  veracity  of  an  unsupported  solita- 
ry witness.  The  danger  of  being  deceived  is  less,  the  actual  in- 
stances of  deception  are  fewer  in  the  one  case  than  the  other. 
W  hat  is  called  positive  proof  in  criminal  matters,  as  where  a  man 
swears  to  the  person  of  the  prisoner,  and  that  he  actually  saw  him 
commit  the  crime  with  which  he  is  charged,  may  be  founded  in 
the  mistake  or  perjury  of  a  single  witness.  Such  mistakes,  and 
such  perjuries,  are  not  without  many  examples.  Whereas,  to  im- 
pose upon  a  court  of  justice,  a  chain  of  circumstantial  evidence  in 
support  of  a  fabricated  accusation,  requires  such  a  number  of  false 
witnesses  as  seldom  meet  together  ;  a  union  also  of  skill  and  wick- 
edness which  is  still  more  rare  ;  and",  after  all,  this  species  of  proof 
lies  much  more  open  to  discussion,  and  is  more  likely,  if  false,  to 
be  contradicted,  or  to  betray  itself  by  some  unforeseen  inconsis- 
tency than  that  direct  proof,  which  being  confined  within  the  know- 
ledge of  a  single  person,  which  appealing  to,  or  standing  connected 
with,  no  external  or  collateral  circumstances,  is  incapable,  by  its 
very  simplicity,  of  being  confronted  with  opposite  probabilities. 

The  other  maxim  which  deserves  a  similar  examination  is  this  : 
— "  That  it  is  better  that  ten  guilty  persons  escape,  than  that  one 
•'innocent  man  should  suffer."  If  by  saying  it  is  better,  be  meant 
that  it  is  more  for  the  public  advantage,  the  proposition,  I  think, 
ranuot  be  maintained.  The  security  of  civil  life,  which  is  essen- 
tial to  the  value  and  the  enjoyment  of  every  blessing  it  contains, 
and  the  interruption  of  which  is  followed  by  universal  misery  and 
confusion,  is  protected  chiefly  by.  the  dread  of  punishment.  The 
misfortune  of  an  individual  (for  such  may  the  sufferings,  or  even 
the  death,  of  an  innocent  person  be  called,  when  they  are  occa- 
sioned by  no  evil  intention)  cannot  be  placed  in  competition  with 
this  object.  I  do  not  contend  (hat  the  life  or  safety  of  the  mean- 
est subject  ought,  in  any  case  to  be  knowingly  sacrificed ;  no  prin- 
ciple of  judicature,  no  end  of  punishment,  can  ever  require  thai. 
But  when  certain  rules  of  adjudication  must  be  pursued,  when  cer- 
tain degrees  of  credibility  must  be  accepted,  in  order  to  reach  the- 


'316  RELIGIOUS    ESTABLISHMENTS, 

crimes  with  which  the  public  are  infested  ;  courts  of  justice  should 
not  be  deterred  from  the  application  of  these  rules  by  every  sus- 
picion of  danger,  or  by  the  mere  possibility  of  confounding  the  in- 
nocent with  the  guilty.  They  ought  rather  to  reflect,  that  he  who 
falls  by  a  mistaken  sentence  may  be  considered  as  falling  for  his 
country ;  whilst  he  suffers  under  the  operation  of  those  rules,  by 
the  general  effect  and  .tendency  of  which  the  welfare  of  the  com- 
munity is  maintained  and  upheld. 


CHAPTER    X. 

OF  RELIGIOUS  ESTABLISHMENTS,  AND  OF  TOLERATION. 
"A  RELIGIOUS  establishment  is  no  part  of  Christianity ;  it  ib 
"  only  the  means  of  inculcating  it."  Amongst  the  Jews,  the  rights 
and  offices,  the  order,  family,  and  succession  of  the  priesthood, 
were  marked  out  by  the  authority  which  declared  the  law  itself. 
These,  therefore,  were  parts  of  the  Jewish  religion,  as  well  as  the 
means  of  transmitting  it.  Not  so  with  the  new  institution.  It  can- 
not be  proved  that  any  form  of  church-government  was  laid  down 
in  the  Christian,  as  it  had  been  in  the  Jewish  scriptures,  with  a  view 
of  fixing  a  constitution  for  succeeding  ages ;  and  which  constitu- 
tion, consequently,  the  disciples  of  Christianity  would  every  where 
stnd  at  all  times,  by  the  very  law  of  their  religion,  be  obliged  to  adopt. 
Certainly  no  command  for  this  purpose  was  delivered  by  Christ  him- 
self; and  if  it  be  shown  that  the  apostles  ordained  bishops  and  pres- 
byters amongst  their  first  converts,  it  must  be  remembered  that 
deacons  also,  and  deaconesses  were  appointed  by  them,  with  func- 
tions very  dissimilar  to  any  which  obtain  in  the  church  at  present. 
The  truth  seems  to  have  been,  that  such  offices  were  at  first  erec- 
ted in  the  Christian  church,  as  the  good  order,  the  instruction,  and 
the  exigencies  of  the  society  at  that  time  required,  without  any  in- 
tention, at  least  without  any  declared  design,  of  regulating  the  ap- 
pointment, authority,  or  the  distinction  of  Christian  ministers  un- 
der future  circumstances.  The  reserve,  if  we  may  so  call  it,  in 
the  Christian  Legislator,  is  sufficiently  accounted  for  by  two  con- 
siderations : — First,  That  no  precise  constitution  could  be  framed, 
which  would  suit  with  the  condition  of  Christianity  in  its  primitive 
state,  and  with  that  which  it  was  to  assume  when  it  should  be  ad- 
vanced into  a  national  religion  :  Secondly,  That  a  particular  desig- 
nation of  office  or  authority  amongst  the  ministers  of  the  new  reli- 
gion, might  have  so  interfered  with  the  arrangements  of  civil  pol- 


AND   TOLERATION.  31 7 

icy,  as  to  have  formed,  in  some  countries,  a  considerable  obstacle 
to  the  progress  and  reception  of  the  religion  itself. 

The  authority  therefore  of  a  church  establishment  is  founded  in 
its  utility  ;  and  whenever,  upon  this  principle,  we  deliberate,  con- 
cerning the  form,  propriety,  or  comparative  excellency  of  differ- 
ent establishments,  the  single  view  under  which  we  ought  to  consi- 
der any  one  of  them,  is  that  of  "  a  scheme  of  instruction  :"  the  sin- 
gle end  we  ought  to  propose  by  them  is,  "  the  preservation  and 
"communication  of  religious  knowledge."  Every  other  idea,  and 
every  other  end  that  have  been  mixed  with  this,  as  the  making  of 
the  church  an  engine,  or  even  an  ally  of  the  state ;  converting  it 
into  the  means  of  strengthening  or  of  diffusing  influence  ;  or  re- 
garding it  as  a  support  of  regal,  in  opposition  to  popular  forms  of 
government, — have  served  only  to  debase  the  institution,  and  to  in- 
troduce into  it,  numerous  corruptions  and  abuses. 

The  notion  of  a  religious  establishment  comprehends  three 
tilings  : — a  clergy,  or  an  order  of  men  secluded  from  other  profes- 
sions to  attend  upon  the  offices  of  religion  ;  a  legal  provision  for 
the  maintenance  of  the  clergy ;  and  the  confining  of  that  provision 
to  the  teachers  of  a  particular  sect  of  Christianity.  If  any  one  of 
these  three  things  be  wanting;  if  there  be  no  clergy,  as  amongst 
the  Quakers ;  or  if  the  clergy  have  no  other  provision  than  what 
they  derive  from  the  voluntary  contribution  of  their  hearers ;  or, 
if  the  provision  which  the  laws  assign  to  the  support  of  religion,  be 
extended  to  various  sects  and  denominations  of  Christians ;  there 
exists  no  national  religion  or  established  church,  according  to  the 
sfnse  which  these  terms  are  usually  made  to  convey.  He,  there- 
fore, who  would  defend  ecclesiastical  establishments,  must  show 
the  separate  utility  of  these  three  essential  parts  of  their  constitu- 
tion : — 

1.  The  question  first  in  order  upon  the  subject,  as  well  as  the 
most  fundamental  in  its  importance,  is,  whether  the  knowledge  and 
profession  of  Christianity,  can  be  maintained  in  a  country  without 
a  class  of  men  set  apart  by  public  authority,  to  the  study  and  teach- 
ing of  religion,  and  to  the  conducting  of  public  worship;  and  for 
these  purposes,  secluded  from  other  employments.  I  add  this  last 
circumstance,  because  in  it  consists,  as  I  take  it,  the  substance  of 
the  controversy.  Now,  it  must  be  remembered,  that  Christianity 
is  an  historical  religion,  founded  in  facts  which  are  related  to  have 
passed,  upon  discourses  which  were  held,  and  letters  which  were 
written,  in  a  remote  age,  and  distant  country  of  the  world,  as  weir 
as  under  a  state  of  life  and  manners,  and  during  the  prevalency  of 
opinions,  customs,  and  institutions,  very  unlike  any  which  are 


3l  RELIGIOUS    ESTABLISHMENTS. 

found  amongst  mankind  at  present.     Moreover,  this  religon,  hav- 
ing1 been  first  published  in  the  country  of  Judea,  and  being  built 
upon  the  more  ancient  religion  of  the  Jews,  is  necessarily  and  inti- 
mately connected  with  the   Sacred  Writings,  with  the  history  and 
polity  of  that  singular  people ;  to  which  must  be  added,  that  the 
records  of  both  revelations,  are  preserved  in  languages  which  have 
long  ceased  to  be  spoken  in  any  part  of  the  world.     Books  which 
come  down  to  us  from  times  so  remote,  and  under  so  many  causes 
of  unavoidable   obscurity,  cannot,  it   is  evident,  be   understood 
without  study  and  preparation.     The  languages  must  be  learned. 
The  various  writings  which  these  volumes  contain,  must  be  care- 
fully compared  with  one  another,  and  with  themselves.     What  re- 
mains of  contemporary  authors,  or  of  authors  connected  with  the 
age,  the  country,  or  the  subject  of  our  Scriptures,  must  be  perused 
and  consulted,  in  order  to  interpret  doubtful  forms  of  speech,  and 
to  explain  allusions  which  refer  to  objects  or  usages  that  no  longer 
exist.     Above  all,  the  modes  of  expression,  the  habits  of  reason- 
ing and  argumentation,  which  were  then  in  use,  and  to  which  the 
discourses  even  of  inspired  teachers  were  necessarily  adapted,  must 
be  sufficiently  known,  and  can  only  be  known  at  all,  by  a  due  ac- 
quaintance with  ancient  literature.     And,  lastly,  to  establish  the 
genuineness  and  integrity  of  the  cannonical  Scriptures  themselves, 
a  series  of  testimony,  recognizing  the  notoriety  and  reception  of 
these  books,  must  be  deduced  from  times  near  to  those  of  their 
first  publication,  down  the  succession  of  ages  through  which  they 
have  been  transmitted  to  us.    The  qualifications  necessary  for  such 
researches  demand,  it  is  confessed,  a  degree  of  leisure,  and  a  kind 
of  education,  inconsistent  with  the  exercise  of  any  other  profes- 
sion ;  but  how  few  are  there  amongst  the  clergy,  from  whom  any- 
thing of  this  sort  can  be  expected  !  how  small  a  proportion  of  their 
number,  who  seem  likely  either  to  augment  the  fund  of  sacred  lite- 
rature, or  even  to  collect  what  is  already  known  ! — To  this  objec- 
tion it  may  be  replied,  that  we  sow  many  seeds  to  raise  one  flower. 
In  order  to  produce  a  few  capable  of  improving  and  continuing 
the  stock  of  Christian  erudition,   leisure  and  opportunity  must  be 
afforded  to  great  numbers.     Original  knowledge  of  this  kind  can 
never  be  universal ;  but  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance,  and  it  is 
enough,  that  there  be  at  all  times  found  some  qualified  for  such  in-, 
quiries,  and  in  whose  concurring  and  independent  conclusions  upon 
each  subject,  the  rest  of  the  Christian  community  may  safely  con- 
fide :  whereas,  without  an  order  of  clergy  educated  for  the  pur- 
pose, and  led  to  the  prosecution  of  these  studies,  by  the  habits,  the 
leisure,  and  the  object  of  their  vocation,  it  may  well  be  questioned 


AND    TOLERATION.  319 

whether  the  learning-  itself  would  not  have  been  lost,  by  which  the 
records  of  our  faith  are  interpreted  and  defended.  We  contend, 
therefore,  that  an  order  of  clergy  is  necessary  to  perpetuate  the  evi- 
dences of  revelation,  and  to  interpret  the  obscurities  of  those  an- 
cient writings,  in  which  the  religion  is  contained.  But  beside  this 
which  forms,  no  doubt,  one  design  of  their  institution,  the  more  or- 
dinary offices  of  public  teaching,  and  of  conducting  public  wor- 
ship, call  for  qualifications  not  usually  to  be  met  with,  amidst  the 
employments  of  civil  life.  It  has  been  acknowledged  by  some, 
who  cannot  be  suspected  of  making  unnecessary  concessions,  in  fa- 
vour of  establishments,  •'  to  be  barely  possible,  that  a  person  who 
"was  never  educated  for  the  office,  should  acquit  himself  with  de- 
u  cency  as  a  public  teacher  of  religion."  And  that  surely  must  be  a 
very  defective  policy  which  trusts  to  possibilities  for  success,  when 
provision  is  to  be  made  for  regular  and  general  instruction.  Little 
objection  to  this  argument  can  be  drawn  from  the  example  of  the 
Quakers,  who,  it  may  be  said,  furnish  an  experimental  proof  that 
the  worship  and  profession  of  Christianity  may  be  upheld  without 
a  seperate  clergy.  These  sectaries  every  where  subsist  in  con- 
junction with  a  regular  establishment.  They  have  access  to  the 
writings,  they  profit  by  the  labours  of  the  clergy,  in  common  with 
other  Christians.  They  participate  in  that  general  diffusion  of  re- 
ligious knowledge,  which  the  constant  teaching  of  a  more  regular 
ministry  keeps  up  in  the  country  ;  with  such  aids,  and  under  sucli 
circumstances,  the  defects  of  a  plan  may  not  be  much  felt,  al- 
though the  plan  itself  be  altogether  unfit  for  general  imitation. 

2.  If  then  an  order  of  clergy  be  necessary,  if  it  be  necessary  al- 
so to  seclude  them  from  the  employments  and  profits  of  other  pro- 
fessions, it  is  evident  they  ought  to  be  enabled  to  derive  a  mainte- 
nance from  their  own.  Now,  this  maintenance  must  either  depend 
upon  the  voluntary  contributions  of  their  hearers,  or  arise  from  re- 
venues assigned  by  authority  of  law.  To  the  scheme  of  voluntary 
contribution,  there  exists  this  insurmountable  objection,  that  few 
would  ultimately  contribute  any  thing  at  all.  However  the  zeal  of 
a  sect,  or  the  novelty  of  a  change,  might  support  such  an  experi- 
ment for  a  while,  no  reliance  could  be  placed  upon  it,  as  a  general 
permanent  provision.  It  is  at  all  times  a  bad  constitution,  which 
presents  temptations  of  interest  in  opposition  to  the  duties  of  reli- 
gion ;  or  which  makes  the  offices  of  religion  experisive  to  those  who 
attend  upon  them ;  or  which  allows  pretences  of  conscience  to  be 
an  excuse  for  not  sharing  in  a  public  burthen.  If,  by  declining- 
to  frequent  religious  assemblies,  men  could  save  their  money,  at 
the  same  time  that  they  indulged  their  indolence,  and  their  disin- 


320  RELIGIOUS    ESTABLISHMENTS, 

clination  to  exercises  of  seriousness  and  reflection  ;  or  ii',  by  dis- 
senting from  the  national  religion,  they  could  be  excused  from  con 
tributmg  to  the  support  of  the  ministers  of  the  religion,  it  is  to  bt 
feared  that  many  would  take  advantage  of  the  option  which  was 
thus  imprudently  left  open  to  them,  and  that  this  liberty  might  fi- 
nally operate  to  the  decay  of  virtue,  and  an  irrecoverable  forgetful- 
ness  of  all  religion  in  the  country.  Is  there  not  too  much  reason 
to  fear,  that  if  it  were  referred  to  the  discretion  of  each  neighbour- 
hood, whether  they  would  maintain  amongst  them  a  teacher  of  re- 
ligion or  not,  many  districts  would  remain  unprovided  with  any  ? 
that,  with  the  difficulties  which  encumber  every  measure  requiring 
the  co-operation  of  numbers,  and  where  each"  individual  of  the  num- 
ber has  an  interest  secretly  pleading  against  the  success  of  the 
measure  itself,  associations  for  the  support  of  Christian  worship  and 
instruction,  would  neither  be  numerous  nor  long  continued  ?  The 
devout  and  pious  might  lament  in  vain  the  want  or  the  distance  of 
a  religious  assembly  ;  they  could  not  form  or  maintain  one,  without 
ihe  concurrence  of  neighbours  who  felt  neither  their  zeal  nor  their 
liberality. 

From  the  difficulty  with  which  congregations  would  be  establish- 
ed and  upheld  upon  the  voluntary  plan,  let  us  carry  our  thoughts 
to  the  condition  of  those  who  are  to  officiate  in  them. — Preaching. 
in  time,  would  become  a  mode  of  begging.  With  what  sincerity, 
or  with  what  dignity,  can  a  preacher  dispense  the  truths  of  Chris- 
tianity, whose  thoughts  are  perpetually  solicited  to  the  reflection 
how  he  may  increase  his  subscription  ?  His  eloquence,  if  he  possess 
any,  resembles  rather  the  exhibition  of  a  player  who  is  computing 
the  profits  of  his  theatre,  than  the  simplicity  of  a  man  who,  feeling 
himself  the  awful  expectations  of  religion,  is  seeking  to  bring 
others  to  such  a  sense  and  understanding  of  their  duty  as  may  save 
their  souls.  Moreover,  a  little  experience  of  the  disposition  of  the 
common  people  will  in  every  country  inform  us,  that  it  is  one  thing 
to  edify  them  in  Christian  knowledge,  and  another  to  gratify  their 
taste  for  vehement,  impassioned  oratory ;  that  he,  not  only  whose 
success,  but  whose  subsistence,  depends  upon  collecting  and  pleas- 
ing a  crowd,  must  resort  to  other  arts  than  the  acquirement  and 
communicationof  sober  and  profitable  instruction.  For  a  preach- 
er to  be  thus  at  the  mercy  of  his  audience  ;  to  be  obliged  to  adapt 
his  doctrines  to  the  pleasure  of  a  capricious  multitude  ;  to  be 
continually  affecting  a  style  and  manner  neither  natural  to  him, 
nor  agreeable  to  his  judgment ;  to  live  in  constant  bondage  to  ty- 
rannical and  insolent  directors  ;  are  circumstances  so  mortifying, 
not  only  to  the  pride  of  the  human  heart,  but  to  the  virtuous  love 


AND   TOLERATION.  32i 

.'t  independency,  that  they  are  rarely  submitted  to  without  a  sa- 
crifice of  principle,  and  a  depravation  of  character  ; — at  least  it 
may  be  pronounced,  that  a  ministry  so  degraded  would  soon  fall 
into  the  lowest  hands  ;  for,  it  would  be  found  impossible  to  engage 
men  of  worth  and  ability  in  so  precarious  and  humiliating  a  pro- 
fession. . 

If  in  deference  then  to  these  reasons,  it  be  admitted,  that  a  le- 
gal provision  for  the  clergy,  compulsory  upon  those  who  contribute 
to  it,  is  expedient ;  the  next  question  will  be,  whether  this  provision 
should  be  confined  to  one  sect  of  Christianity,  or  extended  indiffe- 
rently to  all?    Now  it  should  be  observed,  that  this  question  never 
can  offer  itself  where  the  people  are  agreed  in  their  religious  opi- 
nions ;  and  that  it  never  ought  to  arise,  where  a  system  may  be 
framed  of  doctrines  and  worship  wide  enough  to  comprehend  their 
disagreement ;  and  which  might  satisfy  all,  by  uniting  all  in  the  ar- 
ticles of  their  common  faith,  and  in  a  mode  of  divine  worship  that 
omits  every  subject  of  controversy  or  offence.    Where  such  a  com- 
prehension is  practicable,  the  comprehending  religion  ought  to  be 
made  that  of  the  state.    But  if  this  be  despaired  of;  if  religious  opi- 
nions exist,  not  only  so  various,  but  so  contradictory,  as  to  render 
it  impossible  to  reconcile  them  to  each  other,  or  to  any  one  confes- 
sion of  faith,  rule  of  discipline,  or  form  of  worship  ;  if,  consequently, 
separate  congregations  and. different  sects  must  unavoidably  conti- 
nue in  the  country :  under  such  circumstances,  whether  the  laws 
ought  to  establish  one  sect  in  preference  to  the  rest,  that  is,  whether 
they  ought  to  confer  the  provision  assigned  to  the  maintenance  of 
religion  upon  the  teachers  of  one  system  of  doctrines  alone,  be- 
comes a  question  of  necessary  discussion  and  of  great  importance. 
And  whatever  we  may  determine  concerning  speculative  rights 
and  abstract  properties,  when  we  set  about  the  framing  of  an  ec- 
clesiastical constitution  adapted  to  real  life,  and  to  the  actual  state 
of  religion  in'  the  country,  we  shall  find  this  question  very  nearly 
related  to,  and  principally  indeed  dependent  upon  another ;  namely, 
;c  In  what  way,  or  by  whom,  ought  the  ministers  of  religion  to  be 
•'  appointed  ?"    If  the  species  of  patronage  be  retained  to  which  we 
are  accustomed  in  this  country,  and  which  allows  private  indivi- 
duals to  nominate  teachers  of  religion  for  districts  and  congrega- 
tions to  which  they  are  absolute  strangers  ;  without  some  test  pro- 
posed to  the  persons  nominated,  the  utmost  discordancy  of  religions 
opinions  might  arise  between  the  several  teachers  and  their  res- 
pective congregations.     A  Popish  patron  might  appoint  a  priest  to 
say  mass  to  a  congregation  of  Protestants ;  an  Episcopal  clergyman 
.be  sent  to  officiate  in  a  parish  of  Presbyterians  ;  or  a  Presbyterian 
2J3 


322  RELIGIOUS    ESTABLISHMENTS, 

divine  to  inveigh  against  the  errors  of  Popery  before  an  audience 
of  Papists.     The  requisition  then  of  subscription,  on  any  other  test 
by  which  the  national  religion  is  guarded,  may  be  considered  me- 
rely as  a  restriction  upon  the  exercise  of  private  patronage.     The 
laws  speak  to  the  private  patron  thus  : — "  Of  those  whom  we  have 
"  previously  pronounced  to  be  fitly  qualified  to  teach  religion,  we 
"  allow  you  to  select  one  ;  but  we  do  not  allow  you  to  decide  what 
"  religion  shall  be  established  in  a  .particular  district  of  'the  coun- 
"  try  ;  for  which  decision  you  are  in  nowise  fitted  by  any  qualifica- 
"  tions  which,  as  a  private  patron,  you  may  happen  to  possess.     If 
"it  be  necessary  that  the  point  be  determined  for  the  inhabitants 
"  by  any  other  will  than  their  own,  it  is  surely  better  that  it  should 
"  be  determined  by  the  deliberate  resolution  of  the  legislature,  than 
"by  the  casual  inclination  of  an  individual,  by  whom  the  right  is 
"  purchased,  or  to  whom  it  devolves  as  a  mere  secular  inheritance. 
Wheresoever,  therefore,  this  constitution  of  patronage  is  adopted. 
a  national  religion,  or  the  legal  preference  of  one  particular  reli- 
gion to  all  others,  must  almost  necessarily  accompany  it.     But,  se- 
condly, let  it  be  supposed,  that  the  appointment  of  the  minister  ol 
religion  was  in  every  parish  left  to  the  choice  of  parishioners  ; 
might  not  this  choice,  we  ask,  be  safely  exercised  without  its  be- 
ing limited  to  the  teachers  of  any  particular  sect?     The  effect  of 
such  a  liberty  must  be,  that  a  Papist,  or  a  Presbyterian,  a  Method- 
ist, a  Moravian,  or  an  Anabaptist,  would  successively  gain  posses- 
sion of  the  pulpit,  according  as 'a  majority  of  the  party  happened  at 
each  election  to  prevail.     Now,  with  what  violence  the  conflict 
would  upon  every  vacancy  be  renewed  ;  what  bitter  animosities 
would  be  revived,  or  rather  be  constantly  fed  and  kept  alive  in  the 
neighbourhood ;  with  what  unconquerable  aversion  the  teacher  and 
his  religion  would  be  received  by  the  defeated  party,  may  be  fore- 
seen by  those  who  reflect  with  how  much  passion  every  dispute  is 
carried  on,  in  which  the  name  of  religion  can  be  made  to  mix  it- 
self; much  more  where  the  cause  itself  is  concerned  so  immediate- 
ly as  it  would  be  in  this.     Or,  thirdly,  If  the  state  appoint  the  mi- 
nisters of  religion,  this  constitution  will  differ  little  from  the  esta- 
blishment of  a  national  religion  :   for  the  state  will,  undoubtedly, 
appoint  those,  and  those  alone,  whose  religious  opinions,  or  rather. 
whose  religious  denomination,  agrees  with  its  own  ;  unless  it  be 
thought  that  any  thing  would  be  gained  to  religious  liberty  by 
transferring  the  choice  of  the  national  religion  from  the  legislature 
of  the  country  to  the  magistrate  who  administers  the  executive  go- 
vernment.    The  only  plan  which  seems  to  render  the  legal  main- 
tenance of  a  clergy  practicable,  without  the  legal  preference  of  one 


AXD  TOLERATION.  323 

sect  of  Christians  to  others,  is  that  of  an  experiment  which  is  said 
to  be  attempted  or  designed  in  some  of  the  new  states  of  North 
America.  The  nature  of  the  plan  is  thus  described : — A  tax  is  le- 
vied upon  the  inhabitants  for  the  general  support  of  religion  ;  the 
collector  of  the  tax  goes  round  with  a  register  in  his  hand,  in  which 
arc  inserted,  at  the  head  of  so  many  distinct  columns,  the  names  of 
the  several  religious  sects,  that  are  professed  in  the  country.  The 
person  who  is  called  upon  for  the  assessment,  as  soon  as  he  has  paid 
his  quota,  subscribes  his  name,  and  the  sum  in  whicl}  of  the  columns 
he  pleases ;  and  the  amount  of  what  is  collected  in  each  column  is 
paid  over  to  the  minister  of  that  denomination.  In  this  scheme  it 
is  not  left  to  the  option  of  the  subject,  whether  he  will  contribute, 
or  how  much  he  shall  contributed  the  maintenance  of  a  Christian 
ministry  ;  it  is  only  referred  to  his  choice  to  determine  by  what  sect 
his  contribution  shall  be  received.  The  above  arrangement  is  un- 
doubtedly the  best  that  has  been  proposed  upon  the  principle  :  it 
bears  the  appearance  of  liberality  and  justice  ;  it  may  contain  some 
solid  advantages ;  nevertheless,  it  labours  under  inconveniences 
which  will  be  found,  I  think,  upon  trial,  to  overbalance  all  its  re- 
commendations. It  is  scarcely  compatible  with  that,  which  is  the 
first  requisite  in  an  ecclesiastical  establishment, — the  division  of  the 
country  into  parishes  of  a  commodious  extent.  If  the  parishes  be 
small,  and  ministers  of  every  denomination  be  stationed  in  each 
(which  the  plan  seems  to  suppose,)  the  expense  of  their  mainte- 
nance will  become  too  burthensomc  a  charge  for  the  country  to 
support.  If,  to  reduce  the  expense,  the  districts  be  enlarged,  the 
place  of  assembling  will  oftentimes  be  too  far  removed  from  the  re- 
sidence of  the  persons  who  ought  to  resort  to  it.  Again,  the  mak- 
ing the  pecuniary  success  of  the  different  teachers  of  religion  to  de- 
pend upon  the  number  and  wealth  of  their  respective  followers, 
rvould  naturally  generate  strifes  and  indecent  jealousies  amongst 
them  ;  as  well  a.s  produce  a  polemical  and  proselyting  spirit,  found- 
ed in,  or  mixed  with  views  of  private  gain,  which  would  both  de- 
prave the  principles  of  the  clergy  and  distract  the  country  with 
endless  contentions.  » 

The  argument,  then,  by  which  ecclesiastical  establishments  are 
defended,  proceeds  by  these  steps.  The  knowledge  and  profession 
of  Christianity  cannot  be  upheld  without  a  clergy ;  a  clergy  cannot 
be  supported  without  a  legal  provision  ;  a  legal  provision  for  the 
clergy  cannot  be  constituted  without  the  preference  of  one  sect  of 
O'hristians  to  the  rest :  and  the  conclusion  will  be  satisfactory  in 
(lie  degree  in  which  the  truth  of  these  several  propositions  can  br 
made  ouf. 


324  RELIGIOUS  ESTABLISHMENTS, 

If  it  be  deemed  expedient  to  establish  a  national  religion,  that  i? 
to  say,  one  sect  in  preference  to  all  others  ;  some  test,  by  which 
the  teachers  of  that  sect  may  be  distinguished  from  the  teachers  of 
different  sects,  appears  to  be  an  indispensable  consequence.  The 
existence  of  such  an  establishment  supposes  it :  the  very  notion  of 
a  national  religion  includes  that  of  a  test. 

But  this  necessity,  which  is  real,  hath,  according  to  the  fashion  ot 
human  affairs,  furnished  to  almost  every  church  a  pretence  for  ex- 
tending, multiplying,  and  continuing  such  tests  beyond  what  the 
occasion  justified.  For  though  some  purposes  of  order  and  tran- 
quillity may  be  answered  by  the  establishment  of  creeds  and  con- 
fessions, yet  they  are  all  at  time$  attended  with  serious  inconve- 
niences. They  check  inquiry  ;  they  violate  liberty  ;  they  ensnare 
the  consciences  of  the  clergy,  by  holding  out  temptations  to  preva- 
rication ;  however  they  may  express  the  persuasion,  or  be  accom- 
modated to  the  controversies,  or  to  the  fears  of  the  age  in  which 
they  are  composed,  in  process  of  time,  and  by  reason  of  changes 
which  are  wont  to  take  place  in  the  judgment  of  mankind  upon  re- 
ligious subjects,  they  come  at  length  to  contradict  the  actual  opin- 
ions of  the  church,  whose  doctrines  they  profess  to  contain  ;  and 
they  often  perpetuate  the  proscriptions  of  sects,  and  tenets  from 
which  any  danger  has  long  ceased  to  be  apprehended. 

It  may  not  follow  from  these  objections,  that  tests  and  subscrip- 
tions ought  to  be  abolished  ;  but  it  follows,  that  they  ought  to  be 
made  as  simple  and  easy  as  possible  ;  that  they  should  be  adapted 
from  time  to  time  to  the  varying  sentiments  and  circumstances  of 
the  church  in  which  they  arc  received  ;  and  that  they  should  at  no 
time  advance  one  step  further  than  some  subsisting  necessity  re- 
quires.    If,  for  instance,  promises  of  conformity  to  the  rites,  litur.- 
gy,  and  offices  of  the  church,  be  sufficient  to  prevent  confusion 
and  disorder  in  the  celebration  of  divine  worship,  then  such  pro- 
mises ought  to  be  accepted  in  the  place  of  stricter  subscriptions. 
If  articles  of  peace,  as  they  are  called,  that  is,  engagements  not  to 
preach   certain  doctrines,   nor    to   revive   certain   controversies, 
would  exclude  indecent  altercations  amongst  the  national  clergy. 
as  well  as  secure  to  the  public  teaching  of  religion  as  much  of  uni- 
formity and  quiet  as  is  necessary  to  edification  ;  then  confessions 
of  faith  ought  to  be  converted  into  articles  of  peace.     In  a  word. 
it  ought  to  be  held  a  sufficient  reason  for  relaxing  the  terms  ot 
subscription,  or  for  dropping  any  or  all  of  the  articles  to  be  sub- 
scribed, that  no  present  necessity  requires  the  strictness  which  is 
complained  of,  or  that  it  should  be  extended  to  so  many  points  of 
doctrine. 


AND   TOLERATION.  325 

The  division  of  the  country  into  districts,  and  the  stationing1  in 
each  district  a  teacher  of  religion,  forms  the  substantial  part  of 
every  church  establishment.  The  varieties  that  have  been  intro- 
duced into  the  government  and  discipline  of  different  churches,  are 
of  inferior  importance,  when  compared  with  this,  in  which  they  all 
agree.  Of  these  economical  questions,  none  seems  more  material 
than  that  which  has  been  long  agitated  in  the  reformed  churches 
of  Christendom",  whether  a  parity  amongst  the  clergy,  or  a  distinct: 
tion  of  orders  in  the  ministry,  be  more  conducive  to  the  general 
cntjs  of  the  institution.  In  favour  of  that  system  which  the  laws  of 
this  country  have  prefered,  we  may  allege  the  following  reasons ; 
— That  it  secures  tranquillity  and  subordination  amongst  the  clergy 
themselves  ;  that  it  corresponds  with  the  gradations  of  rank  in  civil 
life,  and  provides  for  the  edification  of  each  rank,  by  stationing-  in 
each  an  order  of  clergy  of  their  own  class  and  quality  ;  and,  lastly, 
that  the  same  fund  produces  more  effect,  both  as  an  allurement  to 
men  of  talents  to  enter  into  the  church,  and  as  a  stimulus  to  the 
industry  of  those  who  are  already  in  it,  when  distributed  into  prizes 
of  different  value  than  when  divided  into  equal  shares. 

After  the  state  has  once  established  a  particular  system  of  faith 
as  a  national  religion,  a  question  will  soon  occur,  concerning-  the 
treatment  and  toleration  of  those  who  dissent  from  it.     This  ques- 
tion is  properly  preceded  by  another,  concerning-  the  right  which 
the  civil  magistrate  possesses  to  interfere  in  matters  of  religion  aft 
all ;   for  although  this  rig-hl  be  acknowledged  whilst  he  is  employed 
solely  in  providing  means  of  public  instruction,  it  will  probably  be 
disputed,  (indeed,  it  ever  has  been)  when  he  proceeds  to  inflict 
penalties,  to  impose  restraints  or  incapacities  on  the  account  of  re- 
ligious distinctions.     They  who  acknowledge  no  other  just  original 
of  civil  government,  than  what  is  founded  in  some  stipulation  with 
its  subjects,  are  at  liberty  to  contend  that  the  concerns  of  religion 
were  cxcepted  out  of  the  social  compact ;  that,  in  an  affair  which 
can  only  be  transacted  between  God  and  a  man's  own  conscience, 
no  commission  or  authority  was  ever  delegated  to  the  civil  magis- 
trate, or  could  indeed  be  transferred  from  the  person  himself  to 
any  other.     We,  however,  who  have  rejected  this  theory,  because 
\ve  cannot  discover  any  actual  contract  between  the  state  and  the 
people,  and  because  we  cannot  allow  an  arbitrary  fiction  to  be 
made  the  foundation  of  real  rights  and  of  real  obligations,  find  our- 
selves precluded  from  this  distinction.     The  reasoning  which  de- 
duces the  authority  of  civil  government  from  the  will  of  God,  and 
which  collects  that  will  from  public  expediency  alone,  binds  us  to 
Ihc  unreserved  conclusion,  that  the  jurisdiction  of  the  magistrate 
28* 


326  RELIGIOUS  ESTABLISHMENTS, 

is  limited  by  no  consideration  but  that  of  general  utility ;  in  plainer 
terms,  that  whatever  be  the  subject  to  be  regulated,  it  is  lawful  for 
him  to  interfere  whenever  his  interference,  in  its  general  tendency, 
appears  to  be  conducive  to  the  common  interest.     There  is  no- 
thing in  the  nature  of  religion,  as  such,  which  exempts  it  from  the 
authority  of  the  legislator  when  the  safety  or  welfare  of  the  com- 
munity requires  his  interposition.     It  has  been  said,  indeed,  that 
religion,  pertaining  to  the  interests  of  a  life  to  come,  lies  beyond 
the  province  of  civil  government,  the  office  of  which  is  confined 
to  the  affairs  of  this  life.     But  in  reply  to  this  objection,  it  may  be 
observed,  that  when  the  laws  interfere  even  in  religion,  they  inter- 
fere only  with  temporals  ;  their  effects  terminate,  their  power  ope- 
rates only  upon  those  rights  and  interests  which  confessedly  be- 
long to  their  disposal.     The  acts  of  the  legislature,  the  edicts  oi 
the  prince,  the  sentence  of  the  judge  cannot  effect  my  salvation; 
nor  do  they,  without  the  most  absurd  arrogance,  pretend  to  any 
such  power :  but  they  may  deprive  me  of  liberty,  of  property,  and 
even  life  itself,  on  account  of  my  religion ;  and  however  I  may 
complain  of  the  sentence  by  which  I  am  condemned,  I  cannot  al- 
lege, that  the  magistrate  has  transgressed  the  boundaries  of  his  ju- 
risdiction ;  beAuise  the  property,  the  liberty,  and  the  life  of  a  sub- 
ject, may  be  taken  away  by  the  authority  of  the  laws,  for  any  rea- 
son, which,    in  the  judgment  of  the  legislature,  renders  such  a 
measure  necessary  to  the  common  welfare.     Moreover,  as  the  prc- 
ceptg  of  religion  may  regulate  all  the  offices  of  life,  or  may  be  so  con- 
strued as  to  extend  to  all,  the  exemption  of  religion  from  the  con- 
trol of  human  laws  might  afford  a  plea,  which  would  exclude  civil 
government  from  every  authority  over  the  conduct  of  its  subjects. 
Religious  liberty,  is  like  civil  liberty,  not  an  immunity  from  re- 
straint, but  the  being  restrained  by  no  law,  but  what  in  a  greater 
degree  conduces  to  the  public  welfare. 

Still  it  is  right  "  to  obey  God  rather  than  man."  Nothing  that 
we  have  said  encroaches  upon  the  truth  of  this  sacred  and  undis- 
puted maxim ;  the  right  of  the  magistrate  to  ordain,  and  the  obli- 
gation of  the  subject  to  obey,  in  matters  of  religion,  may  be  very 
different ;  and  will  be  so,  as  often  as  they  flow  frorn  opposite  appre- 
hensions of  the  divine  will.  In  affairs  that  are  properly  of  a  civil 
nature  in  "  the  things  that  are  Csesar's,"  this  difference  seldom  hap- 
pens. The  law  authorizes  the  act  which  it  enjoins;  revelation  being 
silent  upon.the  subject,  or  referring  to  the  laws  of  the  country,  or  re- 
quiring only  that  men  act  by  some  fixed  rule,  and  that  this  rule  be 
established  by  competent  authority.  But  when  human  laws  inter- 
pose their  direction  in  matters  of  religion,  by  dictating  f<jr  exam- 


AND   TOLERATION.  327 

pie,  the  object  or  the  mode  of  divine  worship  ;  by  prohibiting  the 
profession  of  some  articles  of  faith,  and  by  exacting-  that  of  others, 
they  are  liable  to  clash  with  what  private  persons  believe  to  be  al- 
ready settled  by  precepts  of  revelation ;  or  to  contradict  what  God 
himself,  they  think,  hath  declared  to  be  true.  In  this  case,  on 
whichever  side  the  mistake  lies,  or  whatever  plea  the  state  may  al- 
lege to  justify  its  edict,  the  subject  can  have  none  to  excuse  bis 
compliance.  The  same  consideration  also  points  ont  the  distinc- 
tion, as  to  the  authority  of  the  state,  between  temporals  and  spiri- 
tual?. The  magistrate  is  not  to  be  obeyed  in  one,  any  more  than  in 
.the  other,  where  any  repugnancy  is  perceived  between  his  com- 
mands and  certain  credited  manifestations  of  the  Jirinc  will ;  but 
such  repugnancies  are  much  less  likely  to  rise  in  one  case  than  the 
other. 

When  we  grant  that  it  is  lawful  for  the  magistrate  to  interfere 
in  religion  as  often  as  his  interference  appears  to  him  to  conduce, 
in  its  general  tendency,  to  the  public  happiness ;  it  may  be  argued 
froii!  this  concession,  that  since  salvation  is  the  highest  interest  of 
mankind,  and  since,  consequently,  to  advance  that  is  to  promote 
the  public  happiness  in  the  best  way,  and  in  the  greatest  degree  in 
which  it  can  be  promoted,  it  follows,  that  it  is  not  only  the  right, 
but  the  duty  of  every  magistrate,  invested  with  supreme  power,  to 
enforce  upon  his  subjects  the  reception  of  that  religion  which-  he 
deems  most  acceptable  to  God,  and  to  enforce  it  by  such  methods- 
as  may  appear  most  effectual  for  the  end  proposed.     A  popish  king, 
for  example,  who  should  believe  that  salvation  is  not  attainable  out 
of  the  precints  of  the  Romish  church,  would  derive  a  right  from 
our  principles  (not  to  say  that  he  would  be  bound  by  them)  to  em- 
ploy the  power  with  which  the  constitution  entrusted  him,  and 
which  power,  in  absolute  monarchies,  commands  the  lives  and  for- 
tunes of  every  subject  of  the  empire,  in  reducing  his  people  within 
that  communion.     We  confess  that  this  consequence  is  inferred 
from  the  principles  we  have  laid  down  concerning  the  foundation 
of  civil  authority,  not  without  the  resemblance  of  a  regular  deduc- 
tion ;  we  confess  also,  that  it  is  a  conclusion  which  it  behooves  us  to 
dispose  of;  because,  if  it  really  follows  from  our  theory  of  govern- 
ment, the  theory  itself  ought  to  be  given  up.     Now  it  will  be  re- 
membered, that  the  terms  of  our  proposition  are  these  i  "  That  it  is 
" lawful  for  the  magistrate  to  interfere  in  the  affairs  of  religion. 
; ;  whenever  his  interference  appears  to  him  to  conduce,  by  its  gene* 
;i  ral  tendency,  to  the  public  happiness."     The  clause  of  "general 
''tendency,"  when  this  rule  comes  to  be  applied,  will  be  found  a 
very  significant  part  of  the  direction.     It  obliges  the  magistrate  to 


12f;  .RE  L  TO  tors    ESTAKT.ISHJHENTS. 

reflect,  not  only  whether  the  relig-ion  which  he  wishes  to  propagate 
amongst  his  subjects,  be  that  which  will  best  secure  their  eternal 
welfare ;  not  only  whether  the  methods  he  employs  be  likely  to  ef- 
fectuate the  establishment  of  that  religion;  but  also  upon  this  fur- 
ther question,  whether  the  kind  of  interference  which  he  is  about 
to  exercise,  if  it  were  adopted  as  a  common  maxim  amongst  states 
and  princes,  or  received  as  a  general  rule  for  the  conduct  of  gov- 
ernment in  matters  of  religion,  would,  upon  the  whole,  and  in  the 
mass  of  instances  in  which  his  example  might  be  imitated,  conduce 
to  the  furtherance  of  human  salvation.  If  the  magistrate,  for  ex- 
ample, should  think,  that  although  the  application  of  his  power 
might,  in  the  instance  concerning1  which  he  deliberates,  advance 
the  true  religion,  and  together  with  it  the  happiness  of  his  people. 
yet  that  the  same  engine  in  another's  hands,  who  might  assume  the 
right  to  use  it  with  the  like  pretensions  of  reason  and  authority  that 
he  himself  alleges,  would  more  frequently  shut  out  truth,  and  ob- 
struct the  means  of  salvation  ;  he  would  be  bound  by  this  opinion, 
still  admitting  public  utility  to  be  the  supreme  rule  of  his  conduct 
to  refrain  from  expedients,  which,  whatever  particular  effects  he 
may  expect  from  them,  are,  in  their  general  operation,  dangerous 
or  hurtful.  If  there  be  any  difficulty  in  the  subject,  it  arises  from 
that  which  is  the  cause  of  every  difficulty  in  morals, — the  compe- 
tition of  particular  and  general  consequences ;  or,  what  is  the  same 
thing,  the  submission  of  one  general  rule  to  another  rule  which  is 
still  more  general. 

Bearing,  then,  in  mind,  that  it  is  the  general  tendency  of  the 
measure,  or,  in  other  words,  the  effects  which  would  arise  from  the 
measure  being  generally  adopted,  that  fixes  upon  it  the  character 
of  rectitude  or  injustice,  we  proceed  to  inquire  what  is  the  degree 
and  the  sort  of  interference  of  secular  laws  in  matters  of  religion, 
which  are  likely  to  be  beneficial  to  the  public  happiness.  There 
are  two  maxims  which  will  in  a  great  measure  regulate  our  con- 
clusions upon  this  head.  The  first  is,  that  any  form  of  Christianity 
is  better  than  no  religion  at  all;  the  second,  that  of  different  sys- 
tems of  faith,  that  is  the  best  which  is  the  truest.  The  first  of  these 
positions  will  hardly  be  disputed,  when  we  reflect  that  every  sect  and 
modification  of  Christianity  holds  out  the  happiness  and  misery  of 
another  life,  as  depending  chiefly  upon  the  practice  of  virtue  or  of 
vice  in  this ;  and  that  the  distinctions  of  virtue  and  vice  are  nearly 
the  same  in  all.  A  person  who  acts  under  the  impression  of  these 
hopes  and  fears,  though  combined  with  many  errors  and  supersti- 
tions, is  more  likely  to  advance  both  the  public  happiness  and  his 
own,  than  one  who  is  destitute  of  all  expectation  of  a  future  ac- 


AXD    TOLERATroX.  39C* 

count.  The  latter  proposition  is  founded  in  the  consideration,  that 
the  principal  importance  of  religion,  consists  in  its  influence  upon 
the  fate,  and  condition  of  a  future  existence.  This  influence  be- 
longs only  to  that  religion  which  comes  from  God.  A  political  re- 
ligion may  be  framed,  which  shall  embrace  the  purposes,  and  de- 
scribe the  duties,  of  political  society  perfectly  well ;  but  if  it  be  not 
delivered  by  Gocl,  what  assurance  does  it  afford,  that  the  decisions 
of  the  divine  judgment  will  have  an)'  regard  to  the  rules  which  if 
contains  ?  By  a  man  who  acts  with  a  view  to  a  future  judgment,  the 
authority  of  a  religion  is  the  first  thing  inquired  after ;  a  religion 
which  wants  authority,  with  him  wants  every  thing.'  Since,  then. 
this  authority,  appertains,  not  to  the  religion  which  is  most  commo- 
dious,— to  the  religion  which  is  most  sublime  and  efficacious, — to 
the  religion  which  suits  best  with  the  constitution,  or  seems  most 
calculated  to  uphold  the  power  and  stability  of  civil  government, 
but  only  to  that  religion  which  comes  from  God  ;  we  are  justified  in 
pronouncing  the  true  religion,  by  its  very  truth,  and  independently 
of  all  considerations  of  tendencies,  aptnesses,  or  any  other  internal 
qualities  whatever,  to  be  universally  the  best. 

From  the  first  proposition  follows  this  inference,  that  when  thr 
state  enables  its  subjects  to  learn  some  form  of  Christianity,  by  dis- 
tributing teachers  of  a  religious  system  throughout  the  country, 
and  by  providing  for  the  maintenance  of  these  teachers  at  the  pub- 
lic expense ;  that  is,  in  fewer  terms,  when  the  laws  establish  a. 
national  religion,  they  exercise  a  power  and  an  interference 
which  are  likely,  in  their  general  tendency,  to  promote  the  inter- 
est of  mankind ;  for  even  supposing  the  species  of  Christianity 
which  the  laws  patronize  to  be  erroneous  and  corrupt,  yet  when 
the  option  lies  between  this  religion  and  no  religion  at  all,  (which 
would  be  the  consequence  of  leaving  the  people  without  any  public 
means  of  instruction,  or  any  regular  celebration  of  the  offices  01 
Christianity,)  our  proposition  teaches  us  that  the  former  alternative 
is  constantly  to  be  prefei'ed. 

But  after  the  right  of  the  magistrate  to  establish  a  particular  re- 
ligion has  been,  upon  this  principle,  admitted,  a  doubt  sometimes 
presents  itself,  whether  the  religion  which  we  ought  to  establish, 
be  that  which  he  'himself  professes,  or  that  which  he  observes  to 
prevail  amongst  the  majority  of  the  people.  Now,  when  we  con- 
sider this  question,  with  a  view  to  the  formation  of  a  general  rule 
upon  the  subject,  (which  view  alone  can  furnish  a  just  solution  of 
the  doubt,)  it  must  be  assumed  to  be  an  equal  chance  whether  ol 
the  two  religions  contains  more  of  truth, — that  of  the  magistrate. 
"r  that  of  the  people.  The  chance  then  that  is  left  to  truth  bein«- 


,^30  REMfiTOUS    ESTABLISHMENTS, 

equal  upon  both  suppositions,  the  remaining  consideration  will  be, 
from  which  arrangement  more  efficacy  can  be  expected ; — from 
an  order  of  men  appointed  to  teach  the  people  their  own  religion, 
or  to  convert  them  to  another?  In  my  opinion  the  advantage  lie^ 
on  the  side  of  the  former  scheme  ;  and  this  opinion,  if  it  be  assent- 
ed to,  makes  it  the  duty  of  the  magistrate,  in  the  choice  of  the  reli- 
gion which  he  establishes,  to  consult  the  faith  of  the  nation  rather 
than  his  own. 

The  case  also  of  dissenters  must  be  determined  by  the  principles 
just  now  stated.  Toleration  is  of  two  kinds ; — the  allowing  to  dis- 
senters the  unmolested  profession  and  exercise  of  their  religion,  but 
with -an  exclusion  from  offices  of  trust  and  emolument  in  the  state  ; 
which  is  a  partial  toleration  :  and  the  admitting  them,  without  dis- 
tinction, to  all  civil  privileges  and  capacities  of  other  citizens ; 
which  is  a  complete  toleration.  The  expediency  of  toleration,  and, 
consequently,  the  right  of  every  citizen  to  demand  it,  as  far  as  re- 
lates to  liberty  of  conscience,  and  the  claim  of  being  protected  in 
the  free  and  safe  profession  of  his  religion,  is  deducible  from  the 
second  of  these  propositions,  which  we  have  delivered  as  the 
grounds  of  our  conclusions  upon  the  subject.  That  proposition  as- 
serts truth,  and  truth  in  the  abstract,  to  be  the  supreme  perfection 
of  every  religion.  The  advancement,  consequent!}-,  and  discove- 
ry of  truth,  is  that  end  to  which  all  regulations  concerning  religion 
ought  principally  to  be  adapted.  Now,  every  species  of  intoler- 
ance which  enjoins  suppression  and  silence,  and  every  species  of 
persecution  which  enforces  -such  injunctions,  is  adverse  to  the 
progress  of  truth  ;  forasmach  as  it  causes  that  to  be  fixed  by  one 
set  of  men,  at  one  time,  which  is  much  better,  and  with  much 
more  probability.of  success,  left  to  the  independent  and  progres- 
sive inquiries  of  separate  individuals.  Truth  results  from  discus- 
sion and  from  controversy ;  is  investigated  by  the  labours  and  re- 
searches of  private  persons.  Whatever,  therefore,  prohibits  these, 
obstructs  that  industry  and  that  liberty,  which  it  is  the  common  in- 
terest of  mankind  to  promote.  In  religion,  as  in  other  subjects, 
truth,  if  left  to  itself,  will  almost  always  obtain  the  ascendancy.  If 
different  religions  be  professed  in  the  same  country,  and  the  minds 
of  men  remain  unfettered,  and  unawed  by  intimidations  of  law,  that 
religion  which  is  founded  in  maxims  of  reason  and  credibility,  will 
gradually  gain  over  the  other  to  it.  I  do  not  mean  that  men  will  for- 
mally renounce  their  ancient  religion,  but  that  they  will  adopt  into 
it  the  more  rational  doctrines,  the  improvements  and  discoveries,  of 
the  neighbouring  sect ;  by  which  means  the  worse  religion,  without 
'hr  rcrcmony  of  a  reformation,  will  insensibly  assimilate  itself  to 


AXD    TOLERATION. 

liic  belter.  If  Popery,  for  instance,  and  Protestantism  were  per- 
inited  to  dwell  quietly  together,  Papists  might  not  become  Protes- 
tants,  (for  the  name  is  commonly  the  last  thing-  that  is  changed,)1' 
but  they  would  become  more  enlightened  and  informed ;  they 
would  by  little  and  little  incorporate  into  their  creed  many  of  the 
tenets  of  Protestantism,  as  well  as  imbibe  a  portion  of  its  spirit  and 
moderation. 

The  justice  and  expediency  of  toleration  we  found  primarily  in 
its  conduciveness  to  truth,  and  in  the  superior  value  of  truth  to  that 
of  any  other  quality  which  a  religion  can  possess :  this  is  the  prin- 
cipal argument ;  but  there  are  some  auxiliary  considerations,  too  im- 
portant to  be  omitted.  The  confining  of  the  subject  to  the  religion 
of  the  state,  is  a  needless  violation  of  natural  liberty,  and  in  an  in- 
stance in  which  constraint  is  always  grievous.  Persecution  produ- 
ces no  sincere  conviction,  nor  any  real  change  of  opinion  ;  on  the 
contrary,  it  vitiates  the  public  morals,  by  driving  men  to  prevari- 
cation, and  commonly  ends  in  a  general  though  secret  infidelity,  b}- 
imposing,  under  the  name  of  revealed  religion,  systems  of  doctrine 
which  men  cannot  believe,  and  dare  not  examine  :  finally,  it  dis- 
graces the  character,  and  wounds  the  reputation  of  Christianity 
itself,  by  making  it  the  author  of  oppression,  cruelty  and  blood- 
shed. 

Under  the  idea  of  religious  toleration,  I  include  the  toleration  of 
all  books  of  serious  argumentation  :  but  I  deem  it  no  infringe- 
ment of  religious  liberty,  to  restrain  the  circulation  of  ridicule, 
invective,  and  mockery,  upon  religious  subjects;  because  this  spe- 
cies of  writing  applies  solely  to  the  passions,  weakens  the  judg- 
ment, and  contaminates  the  imagination  of  its  readers  ;  has  no  ten- 
dency whatever  to  assist  either  the  investigation  or  the  impression 
of  truth ;  on  the  contrary,  whilst  it  stays  not  to  distinguish  the 
character  or  authority  of  different  religions,  it  destroys  alike  the 
influence  of  all. 

Concerning  the  admission  of  dissenters  from  the  established  re- 
ligion to  offices  and  employments  in  the  public  service,  (which  is 
necessary  to  render  toleration  complete)  doubts  have  been  enter- 
tained, with  some  appearance  of  reason.  It  is  possible  that  such 
religious  opinions  may  be  holden,  as  are  utterly  incompatible  with 
the  necessary  functions  of  civil  government ;  and  which  opinions 
consequently  disqualify  those  who  maintain  them,  from  exercising 
any  share  in  its  administration.  There  have  been  enthusiasts  who 

*•  Would  we  let  the  name  stand  we  might  often  attract  men,  without  their  per 
•:oiving  it,  much  nearer  to  ourselves,  than,  if  they  did  perceive  it,  they  would  IK 
willins  to  come. 


33:2  RKLIGIOUS   ESTABLISHMENTS, 

held  that  Christianity  has  abolished  all  distinction  of  property,  and 
that  she  enjoins  upon  her  followers  a  community  of  goods.  With 
what  tolerable  propriety  could  one  of  this  sect  be  appointed  a 
judge  or  a  magistrate,  whose  office  it  is  to  decide  upon  questions  ol 
private  right,  and  to  protect  men  in  the  exclusive  enjoyment  01 
their  property  ?  It  would  be  equally  absurd  to  intrust  a  military 
command  to  a  Quaker,  who  believes  it  to  be  contrary  to  the  Gos- 
pel to  take  up  arms.  This  is  possible ;  therefore  it  cannot  be  laid 
down  as  a  universal  truth,  that  religion  is  not  in  its  nature,  a  cause 
which  will  justify  exclusion  from  public  employments.  When  we 
examine,  however,  the  sects  of  Christianity  which  actually  prevail 
in  the  world,  we  must  confess  that,  with  the  single  exception  of  re- 
fusing to  bear  arms,  we  find  no  'tenet  in  any  of  them  which  inca- 
pacitates men  for  the  service  of  -the  state.  It  has  indeed  been  as- 
serted, that  discordancy  of  religions,  even  supposing  each  religion 
to  be  free  from  any  errors  that  effect  the  safety  or  the  conduct  of 
government,  is  enough  to  render  men  unfit  to  act  together  in  pub- 
lic stations.  But  upon  what  argument,  or  upon  what  experience 
is  this  assertion  founded  ?  I  percievc  no  reason*  why  men  of  diffe- 
rent religious  persuasions  may  not  sit  upon  the  same  bench,  delib- 
erate in  the  same  council,  or  fight  in  the  same  ranks,  as  well  as 
men  of  various  or  opposite  opinions  upon  any  controverted  topic  of 
natural  philosophy,  history,  or  ethics. 

There  are  two  cases  in  which  test  laws  are  wont  to  be  applied, 
and  in  which,  if  in  any,  they  may  be  defended.  One  is,  where  two 
or  more  religions  are  contending  for  establishment ;  and  where 
there  appears  no  end  to  the  contest,  but  by  giving  to  one  religion 
such  a  decided  superiority  in  the  legislature  and  government  of  the 
country,  as  to  secure  it  against  danger  from  any  other.  I  own 
that  I  should  assent  to  this  precaution  with  many  scruples.  If  the 
dissenters  from  the  establishment  become  a  majority  of  the  people, 
the  establishment  itself  ought  to  be  altered  or  qualified.  If  there 
exist  amongst  the  different  sects  of  the  country  such  a  parity  of 
numbers,  interest,  and  power,  as  to  render  the  preference  of  one 
sect  to  the  rest,  and  the  choice  of  that  sect  a  matter  of  hazardous 
success,  and  of  doubtful  election,  some  plan  similar  to  that  which 
is  meditated  in  North  America,  and  which  we  have  described  in 
a  preceding  part  of  the  present  chapter,  may  perhaps  suit  better 
with  this  divided  state  of  public  opinions,  than  any  constitution  of  a 
national  church  whatever .  In  all  other  situations,  the  establishment 
will  be  strong  enough  to  maintain  itself.  However,  if  a  lest  be  ap- 
plicable with  justice  upon  this  principle  at  all,  it  ought  to  be  arppli- 
ed  in  regal  governments  to  the  chief  magistrate  himself,  whose 


AND   TOLERATION. 

i.iovrcr  might  otherwise  overthrow  or  change  the  established  reli- 
gion of  the  country,  in  opposition  to  the  will  and  sentiments  of  thr 
people. 

The  second  case  of  exclusion,  and  in  which,  I  think,  the  meas 
ure  is  more  easily  vindicated,  is  that  of  a  country  in  which  some 
disaffection  to  the  subsisting  government,  happens  to  be  connected 
with  certain  religious  distinctions.  The  state  undoubtedly  has  a 
right  to  refuse  its  power  and  its  confidence  to  those  who  seek  its 
destruction.  Wherefore,  if  the  generality  of  any  religious  sect  en- 
tertain dispositions  hostile  to  the  constitution,  and  if  government 
have  no  other  way  of  knowing  its  enemies  than  by  the  religion 
which  they  profess,  the  professors  of  that  religion  may  justly  be  ex- 
cluded from  offices  of  trust  and  authority.  But  even  here  it  should 
be  observed,  that  it  is  not  against  the  religion  that  government; 
shuts  its  doors,  but  against  those  political  principles,  which  howev- 
er independent  they  may  be  of  any  article  of  religious  faith,  the 
members  of  that  community  are  found  in  fact  to  hold.  Nor  would 
the  legislator  make  religious  tenets  the  test  of  men's  inclinations 
towards  the  state,  if  he  could  discover  any  otner  that  was  equally 
certain  and  notorious.  Thus,  if  the  members  of  the  Romish 
church,  for  the  most  part  adhere  to  the  interest,  or  maintain  the 
right  of  a  foreign  pretender  to  the  crown  of  these  kingdoms ;  and 
if  there  be  no  way  of  distinguishing  those  who  do,  from  those  who 
do  not  retain  such  dangerous  prejudices  ;  government  is  well  war- 
ranted in  fencing  out  the  whole  sect  from  situations  of  trust  and 
power.  But  even  in  this  example,  it  is  not  to  Popery  that  the 
laws  object,  but  to  Popery  as  the  mark  of  Jacobitism  ;  an  equivo- 
cal, indeed  and  fallacious  mark,  but  the  best,  and  perhaps  the  only 
one  that  can  be  devised.  But  then  it  should  be  remembered,  that: 
as  the  connexion  between  Popery  and  Jacobitism,  which  is  the 
sole  cause  of  suspicion,  and  the  sole  justification  of  those  severe 
and  jealous  laws  which  have  been  enacted  against  the  professors  of 
that  religion,  wa?  accidental  in  its  origin,  so  probably  it  will  be 
temporary  in  its  duration ;  and  that  these  restrictions  ought  not  to 
continue  one  day  longer  than  some  visible  danger  renders  them 
necessary  to  the  preservation  of  public  tranquillity. 

After  all  it  may  be  asked,  why  should  not  the  legislator  direcf: 
his  test  against  the  political  principles  themselves  which  he  wishes 
to  exclude,  rather  than  encounter  them  through  the  medium  of  re- 
ligious tenets,  the  only  crime  and  the  only  danger  of  which  consist 
in  their  presumed  alliance  with  the  former  ?  Why  for  example; 
should  a  man  be*  required  to  renounce  transubstantiation  before  he 
be  admitted  to  an  office  in  the  state,  when  it  might  seem  to  be  suf. 
29 


134  nt.LIdIOUS   ESTABLISHMENTS,   &c, 

ficient  that  he  abjure  the  pretender?  There  are'but  two  answei?.-' 
that  can  be  given  to  the  objection  which  this  question  contains , 
first,  That  it  is  not  opinions  which  the  laws  fear,  so  much  as  incli 
nations ;  and  that  political  inclinations  are  not  so  easily  detected  bj 
the  affirmation  or  denial  of  any  abstract  proposition  in  politics,  as 
by  the  discovery  of  the  religious  creed  with  which  they  are  wont 
to  be  united  :  secondly,  That  when  men  renounce  their  religion, 
they  commonly  quit  all  connexion  with  the  members  of  the  church 
which  they  have  left,  that  church  no  longer  expecting1  assistance 
or  friendship  from  them  ;  whereas  particular  persons  might  insinu- 
ate themselves  into  offices  of  trust  and  authority,  by  subscribing-  po- 
litical assertions,  and  yet  retain  their  predilection  for  the  interests  of 
the  religious  sect  to  which  they  continued  to  belong.  By  which 
means,  government  would  sometimes  find,  though  it  could  not  ac- 
cuse the  individual  whom  ithad  received  into  its  service,  of  disaffec- 
tion to  the  civil  establishment,  yet  that,  through  him,  it  had  com- 
municated the  aid  and  influence  of  a  powerful  station  to  a  party 
who  were  hostile  to  the  constitution.  These  answers,  however,  we 
propose  rather  than  defend.  The  measure  certainly  cannot  be  de- 
fended at  all,  except  where  the  suspected  union  between  certain 
obnoxious  principles  in  politics,  'and  certain  tenets  in  religion,  is 
nearly  universal ;  in  which  case  it  makes  little  difference  to  the 
subscriber,  whether  the  tes  tbe  religious  or  political;  and  the  state 
is  somewhat  better  secured  by  the  one  than  the  other. 

The  result  of  our  examination  of  those  general  tendencies,  by 
which  every  interference  of  civil  government  in  matters  of  reli- 
gion ought  to  be  tried,  is  this :  "That  a  comprehensive  national 
"  religion,  guarded  by  a  few  articles  of  peace  and  conformity,  to- 
"  gether  with  a  legal  provision  for  the  clergy  of  that  religion  ;  and 
"  with  a  complete  toleration  of  all  dissenters  from  the  established 
"  church,  without  any  other  limitation  or  exception  than  what  ari- 
"  ses  from  the  conjunction  of  dangerous  political  dispositions  with 
"  certain  religious  tenets,  appears  to  be,  not  only  the  most  jus) 
"  and  liberal,  but  the  wisest  and  safest  system,  which  a  state  can 
"  adopt ;  inasmuch  as  it  unites  the  several  perfections  which  a  re- 
"  ligious  constitution,  ought  to  aim  at, — liberty  of  conscience,  with 
"means  of  instruction;  the  progress  of  truth,  with  the  peace^of 
"society;  the  right  of  private- judgment,  with  care  of  the  public 
"  safety." 


XJF   POPULATION   AND   PROVISION.  335 

CHAPTER  XX. 

-OF  POPULATION  AND  PROVISION  ;  AND  OP  AGRICULTURE  AND 
COMMERCE,  AS  SUBSERVIENT  THERETO. 

THE  final  view  of  all  rational  politics  is,  to  produce  the  greatest 
quantity  of  happiness  in  a  given  tract  of  country.  The  riches, 
strength,  and  glory  of  nations ;  the  topics  which  history  celebrates, 
and  which  alone  almost  engage  the  praises,  and  possess  the  admi- 
ration of  mankind,  have  no  value  further  than  as  they  contri- 
bute to  this  end.  When  they  interfere  with  it,  they  are  evils,  and 
not  the  less  real  for  the  splendour  that  surrounds  them. 

Secondly,  Although  we  speak  of  communities  as  of  sentient  be- 
ings; although  we  ascribe  to  them  happiness  and  miser}',  desires, 
interests,  and  passions,  nothing  really  exists  or  feels  but  individu- 
als. The  happiness  of  a  people  is  made  up  of  the  happiness  of  sin- 
gle persons  ;  and  the  quantity  of  happiness  can  only  be  augmen- 
ted by  increasing  the  number  of  the  percipients,  or  the  pleasure  of 
their  perceptions. 

Thirdly,  Notwithstanding  that  diversity  of  condition,  especially 
different  degrees  of  plenty,  freedom,  and  security,  greatly  vary  the 
quantity  of  happiness  enjoyed  by  the  same  number  of  individuals  ; 
and  notwithstanding  that  extreme  cases  maybe  found,  of  human 
beings  so  galled  by  the  rigours  of  slavery,  that  the  increase  of  num- 
bers is  only  the  amplification  of  misery;  yet  within  certain  limits, 
and  within  those  limits  to  which  civil  life  is  diversified  under  the 
temperate  governments  that  obtain  in  Europe,  it  may  be  affirmed, 
I  think,  with  certainty  ^  that  the  quantity  of  happiness  produced  in 
my  given  district,  so  far  depends  upon  the  nurnber  of  inhabitants 
that,  in  comparing  adjoining  periods  in  the  same  country,  the  collect- 
ive happiness  will  be  nearly  in  the  exact  proportion  of  the  numbers, 
that  is,  twice  the  number  of  inhabitants  will  produce  double  the 
quantity  of  happiness  ;  in  distant  periods,  and  different  countries, 
under  great  changes  or  great  dissimilitude  of  civil  condition,  al- 
though the  proportion  of  enjoyment  may  fall  much  short  of  that  of 
the  numbers,  yet  still  any  considerable  excess  of  numbers  will  usu- 
ly  carry  with  it  a  preponderation  of  happiness  ;  that,  at  'east,  it  may, 
and  ought  to  be  assumed  in  all  political  deliberations,  that  a  larger 
portion  of  happiness  is  enjoyed  amongst  ten  persons,  possessing  the 
means  of  healthv  subsistence,  than  can  be  produced  by  Jive  per- 
sons, under  every  advantage  of  power,  affluence,  and  luxury- 

From  these  principles  it  follows,  that  the  quantity  of  happiness 
in  a  given  district,  although  it  is  possible  it  may  be  increased,  tho 
number  of  inhabitants  remaining  the  same,  is  chiefly  and  most  na- 


336  OF    POPULATION 

turally  affected  by  alteration  of  the  numbers:  that,  consequently ;- 
tbe  decay  of  population  is  the  greatest  evil  that  a  state  can  suffer  ; 
and  the  improvement  of  it  the  object  which  ought,  in  all  countries, 
to  be  aimed  at,  in  preference  to  every  other  political  purpose  what- 
soever. 

The  importance  of  population,  and  the  superiority  of  it  to  every 
other  national  advantage,  are  points  necessary  to  be  inculcated, 
and  to  be  well  understood ;  inasmuch  as  false  estimates,  or  fantastic- 
notions  of  national  grandeur,  are  perpetually  drawing  the  attention 
of  statesmen  and  legislators  from  the  care  of  this,  which  is,  at  all 
iiraes,  the  true  and  absolute  interest  of  a  country ;  for  which  rea- 
son, we  have  stated  these  points  with  unusual  formality.  We  will 
confess,  however,  that  a  competition  can  seldom  arise  between  the 
•advancement  of  population  and  any  measure  of  sober  utility ;  be- 
cause, in  the  ordinary  progress  of  human  affairs,  whatever  in  any 
way  contributes  to.  make  a  people  happier,  tends  to  render  them 
more  numerous. 

In  the  fecundity  of  the  human,  as  of  every  other  species  of  ani 
mals,  nature  has  provided  for  an  indefinite  multiplication.  Man- 
kind have  increased  to  their  present  number  from  a  single  pair ; 
J,he  offspring  of  early  marriages,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  procrea- 
tion, do  more,  than  replace  the  parents  ;  in  countries,  and  under 
circumstances  very  favourable  to  subsistence,  the  population  has 
been  doubled  in  the  space  of  twenty  years  ;  the  havoc  occasioned 
by  wars,  earthquakes,  famine,  or  pestilence,  is  usually  repaired  in 
a  short  time.  These  indications  sufficiently  demonstrate  the  ten- 
dency of  nature,  in  the  human  species,  to  a  continual  increase  ot 
its  numbers.  It  becomes  therefore  a  question  that  may  reasonably 
be  propounded.  What  are  the  causes  which  confine  or  cheek  the 
natural  progress  of  this  multiplication?  And  the. answer  which 
lirst  presents  itself  to  the  thoughts  of  the  enquirer  is,  that  the  popu- 
lation of  a  country  must  stop  when  the  country  can  maintain  no 
more,  that  is,  when  the  inhabitants  are  already  so  numerous  as  to 
exhaust  all  the  provision  which  the  soil  can  be  made  to  produce. 
This,  however,  though  an  insuperable  bar,  will  seldom  be  found  to 
be  that  which  actually  checks  the  progress  of  population  in  any 
country  of  the  world,  because  the  number  of  the  people  have  selr 
dpm,  in  any  country,  arrived  at  this  limit,  or  even  approached  to 
it.  The  fertility  of  the  ground,  in  temperate  regions,  is  capable  oi" 
being  improved  by  cultivation  to  an  extent  which  is  unknown  ; 
much,  however,  beyond  the  state  of  improvement  in  any  country 
in  Europe.  In  our  own,  which  holds  almost  the  first  place  in  the 
knowledge  and  encouragement  of  agriculture,  let  it  only  be  sun 


AND   PROVISION.  337 

posed  that  every  field  in  England,  of  the  same  original  quality  with 
those  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  metropolis,  and  consequently  ca- 
pable of  the  same  fertility,  were,  by  a  like  management,  made  to 
yield  an  equal  produce  ;  and  it  may  be  asserted,  I  believe  with 
truth,  that  the  quantity  of  human  provision  raised  in  the  island, 
would  be  increased  five-fold.  The  two  principles,  therefore,  upon 
which  population  seems  primarily  to  depend,  the  fecundity  of  the 
species,  and  the  capacity  of  the  soil,  would  in  most,  perhaps  in  all 
countries  enable  it  to  proceed  much  further  than  it  has  yet  ad- 
vanced. The  number  of  marriageable  women,  who,  in  each  coun- 
try, remain  unmarried,  afford  a  computation  how  much  the  agency 
of  nature  in  the  diffusion  of  human  life,  is  cramped  and  contracted  : 
and  the  quantity  of  waste,  neglected,  or  mismanaged  surface, — toge- 
ther with  a  comparison,  like  the  preceding,  of  the  crops  raised  from 
the  soil  in  the  neighbourhood  of  populous  cities,  and  under  a  per- 
fect state  of  cultivation  with  those  which  lands  of  equal  or  superior 
quality  yield  in  different  situations, — will  show  in  what  proportion 
the  indigenous  productions  of  the  earth  are  capable  of  being  fur- 
ther augmented. 

The  fundamental  proposition  upon  the  subject  of  population, 
which  must  guide  every  endeavour  to  improve  it,  and  from  which 
every  conclusion  concerning  it  may  be  deduced,  is  this  :  "  Where- 
"  ever  the  commerce  between  the  sexes  is  regulated  by  marriage, 
;t  and  a  provision  for  that  mode  of  subsistence,  to  which  each  class 
"of  the  community  is  accustomed,  can  be  procured  with  ease  and 
"  certainty,  there  the  number  of  the  people  will  increase ;  and  the 
"  rapidity,  as  well  as  the  extent  of  the  increase,  will  be  propor- 
"  tioned  to  the  degree  in  which  these  causes  exist." 

This  proposition  we  will  draw  out 'into  -the  several  principles 
which  it  contains. 

I.  First,  the  proposition  asserts  the  "  necessity  of  confining  the 
"intercourse  of  the  sexes  to  the  marriage  union."  It  is  only  in 
the  marriage  union  that  this  intercourse  is  sufficiently  prolific.  Be- 
side which,  family  establishments  alone  are  fitted  to  perpetuate  a 
succession  of  generations.  The  offspring  of  a  vague  and  promis- 
cuous concubinage  are  not  only  few,  and  liable  to  nerish  by  ne- 
glect, but  are  seldom  prepared  for,  or  introduced  into  situations 
suited  to  the  raising  of  families  of  their  own.  Hence  the  advan- 
tages of  marriage.  Now  nature,  in  the  constitution  of  the  sexes, 
has  provided  a  stimulus  which  will  infallibly  secure  the  frequency 
of  marriages,  with  all  their  beneficial  effects  upon  the  state  of  popu- 
lation, provided  the  male  part  of.  the  species  be  prohibited  from 
irregular  gratifications.  •  This  impulse,  which  is  sufficient  to  sur- 
29* 


"•33  or  POPULATION 

mount  almost  every  impediment  to  marriage,  will  operate  in  pro- 
portion to  the  difficulty,  expense,  danger,  or  infamy,  the  sense  of 
guilt,  or  the  fear  of  punishment  which  attend  licentious  indulgen 
.  ees.  Wherefore,  in  countries  in  which  subsistence  is  become 
scarce,  it  behooves  the  state  to  watch  over  the  public  morals  with 
increased  solicitude  ;  for,  nothing  but  the  instinct  of  nature,  under 
the  restraint  of  chastity,  will  induce  men  to  undertake  the  labour. 
or  consent  to  the  sacrifice  of  personal  liberty  and  indulgence  which 
.the  support  of  a  family,  in  such  circumstances,  requires. 

II.  The  second  requisite  which  the  proposition  states  as  necessa- 
ry to  the  success  of  population,  is,  "  The  ease  and  certainty  with 
"which  a  provision  can  be  procured  for  that  mode  of  subsistence 
"  to  which  each  class  of  the  community  is  accustomed."  It  is  not 
enough  that  men's  natural,  wants  be  supplied ;  that  a  provision  ade- 
quate to-  the  actual  exigencies  of  human  life  be  attainable  ;  habitual 
superfluities  become  real  wants  ;  opinion  and  fashion  convert  arti- 
cles of  ornament  and  luxury  into  necessaries  of  life.  And  it  must 
not  be  expected  from  men  in  general,  at  least  in  the  present  relax- 
ed state  of  morals  and  discipline,  that  they  will  enter  into  marria- 
ges which  degrade  their  condition,  reduce  their  mode  of  living, 
•leprive  them  of  the  accommodations  to  which  they  have  been  ac- 
customed, or  even  of  those  ornaments  or  appendages  of  rank  and 
station,  which" they  have  been  taught  to  regard  as  belonging  to 
their  birth,  or  class,  or  profession,  or  place  in  society.  The  same 
consideration,  namely,  a  view  to  their  accustomed  mode  of  life, 
which  is  so  apparent  in  the  superior  orders  of  the  people,  lias  no 
less  influence  upon  those  ranks  which  compose  the  mass  of  the 
community.  The  kind  and  ^quality  of  food  and  liquor,  the  species 
of  habitation,  furniture,  and  clothing,  to  which  the  common  people 
of  each  country  arc  habituated,  must  be  attainable  with  ease  and 
certainty,  before  marriages  will  be  sufficiently  early  and  general,  to 
carry  the  progress  of  population  to  its  just  extent.  It  is  in  vain  to 
allege,  that  a  move  simple  diet,  ruder  habitations,  or  coarser  appa- 
rel, would  be  sufficient  for  the  purposes  of  life  and  health,  or  even 
of  physical  ease  and  pleasure.  Men  will  not  marry  with  this  en- 
couragement. For  instance,  when  the  common  people  of  a  coun- 
try -are  accustomed  to  eat  a  large  proportion  of  animal  food,  to 
drink  wine,  spirits,  or  beer,  to  wear  shoes  and  stockings,  to  dwell 
in  stone  houses,  they  will  not  marry  to  live  in  clay  cottages,  upon 
roots  and  milk,  with  no  other  clothing  than  skins,  or  what  is  ne- 
cessary to  defend  the  trunk  of  the  body  from  the  effects  of  cold ;  al- 
though these  last  may  be  all  that  the  sustentation  of  life  and  health 
requires,  qr  that  even  contribute  much  to.  animal  comfort  and  en- 
joyment. 


AND  PROVISION.  339 

The  ease,  then,  and  certainty,  with  which  the  means  can  be  pro- 
cured, not  barely  of  subsistence,  but  of  that  mode  of  subsisting' 
which  custom  hath  in  each  country  established,  form  the  point  up- 
on which  the  state  and  progress  of  population  chiefly  depend.  Now, 
there  are  three  causes  which  evidently  regulate  this  point :  the 
mode  itself  of  subsisting  which  prevails  in  the  country ;  the  quantity 
of  provision  suited  to  that  mode  of  subsistence,  which  is  either 
raised  in  the  country,  or  imported  into  it ;  and,  lastly,  the  distribu- 
tion of  that  provision. 

These  three  causes  merit  distinct  considerations. 

I.  The  mode  of  living  which  actually  obtains  in  a  country.  Iu 
China,  where  the  inhabitants  frequent  the  sea-shore,  and  subsist  in 
a  great  measure  upon  fish,  the  population  is  described  to  be  exces- 
sive. This  peculiarity  arises,  not  probably  from  any  civil  advan- 
tages, any  care  or  polic)7,-  any  particular  constitution  or  superior 
wisdom  of  government,  but  simply  from  hence,  that  the  species  of 
food  to  which  custom  hath  reconciled  the  desires  and  inclinations 
of  the  inhabitants,  is  that  which,  of  all  others,  is  procured  in  the 
greatest  abundance,  with  the  most  ease,  and  stands  in  need  of  the 
least  preparation.  The  natives  of  Indostan  being  confined,  by  the 
laws  of  their  religion,  to  the  use  of  vegetable  food,  and  requiring 
little  except  rice,  which  the  country  produces  in  plentiful  crops ; 
and  food,  in  warm  climates,  composing  the  only  want  of  life;  these 
countries  are  populous,  under  all  the  injuries  of  a  despotic,  and  the 
agitations  of  an  unsettled  government.  If  any  revolution,  or  what 
would  be  called  perhaps  refinement  of  manners,  should  generate  in 
these  people  a  taste  for  the  flesh  of  animals,  similar  to  what  pre- 
vails amongst  the  Arabian  hordes  ;  should  introduce  flocks  and 
herds  into  grounds  which  are  now  covered  with  corn ;  should  teach 
them  to  account  a  certain  portion  of  this  species  of  food  amongst 
the  necessaries  of  life  ;  the  population,  from  this  single  -change, 
would  suffer  in  a  few  years  a  great  diminution :  and  this  diminution 
would  follow,  in  spite  of  every  effort  of  the  laws,  or  even  of  any 
improvement  that  might  take  place  in  their  civil  condition.  In 
Ireland,  the  simplicity  of  living  alone  maintains  a  considerable  de- 
gree of  population,  under  great  defects  of  police,  industry,  and 
commerce. 

Under  this  head,  and  from  a  view  of  these  considerations,  may  be 
understood  the  true  evil  and  proper  danger  of  luxury. 

Luxury,  as  it  supplies  employment  and  promotes  industry  assists 
population.  But  then  there  is  another  consequence  attending  it, 
which  counteracts  and  often  overbalances  these  advantages.  When, 
by  introducing  more  superfluities  into  general  reception,  luxury 


has  rendered  the  usual  accommodations  of  life  more  expensive, 
artificial,  and  elaborate,  the  difficulty  of  maintaining1  a  family,  con- 
formably with  the  established  mode  of  living1,  becomes  greater,  and 
what  each  man  has  to  spare  from  his  personal  consumption  propor- 
tionably  less  :  the  effect  of  which  is,  that  marriages  grow  less  fre- 
quent, agreeably  to  the  maxim  above  laid  down,  and  which  must 
be  remembered  as  the  foundation  of  all  our  reasoning-  upon  the 
subject,  that  men  will  not  marry  to  sink  their  place  or  condition  in 
society,  or  to  forego  those  indulgencies  which  their  own  habits  or 
what  they  observe  amongst  their  equals,  have  rendered  necessary 
to  their  satisfaction.  This  principle  is  applicable  to  every  article 
of  diet  and  dress,  to  houses,  furniture,  attendance  ;  and  this  effect 
will  be  felt  in  every  class  of  the  community.  For  instance,  the 
custom  of  wearing  broad  cloth  and  fiae  linen  repays  the  shepherd 
and  flax-grower,  feeds  the  manufacturer,  enriches  the  merchant, 
gives  not  only  support  but  existence  to  multitudes  of  families  :  hi- 
therto, therefore,  the  effects  are  beneficial;  and  were  these  the 
only  effects,  such  elegancies,  or,  if  you  please  tp  call  them  so,  such 
luxuries,  could  not  be  too  universal.  But  here  follows  the  mis- 
chief: when  once  fashion  hath  annexed  the  use  of  these  articles  ol 
dress  to  any  certain  class,  to  the  middling  ranks,  for  example,  of 
the  community,  each  individual  of  that  rank  finds  them  to  be  neces- 
saries of  life;  that  is,  finds  himself  obliged  to 'comply  witli  the  ex- 
ample of  his  equals,  and  to  maintain  that  appearance  which  the 
custom  of  society  requires.  This  obligation  creates  such  a  demand 
upon  his  income,  and  withal  adds  so  much  to  the  cost  and  burthen 
of  a  family,  as  to  put  it  out  of  his  power  to  marry,  with  the  pros- 
pect of  continuing  his  habits,  or  of  maintaining  his  place  and  situa- 
tion in  the  world.  We  see,  in  this  description,  the  cause  which  in- 
duces men  to  waste  their  lives  in  a  barren  celibacy ;  and  this  cause, 
which  impairs  the  very  source  of  population,  is  justly  placed  to  the 
account  of  luxury. 

It  appears,  then,  that  luxury,  considered  with  a  view  to  popula- 
tion, acts  by  two  opposite  effects  ;  and  it  seems  probable,  that  there 
exists  a  point  in  the  scale,  to  which  luxury  may  ascend,  or  to 
which  the  wants  of  mankind  may  be  multiplied  with  advantage  to 
the  community,  and  beyond  which  the  prejudicial  effects  begin  to 
preponderate.  The  determination  of  this  point,  though  it  assume 
the  form  of  an  arithmetical  problem,  depends  upon  circumstan- 
ces too  numerous,  intricate,  and 'undefined,  to  admit  of  a  precise 
solution.  However,  from  what  has  been  observed  concerning  the 
tendency  of  luxury  to  diminish  marriages,  in  which  tendency  the 
evil  of  it  resides,  the  following  general  conclusions  may  be  esta- 
blished. 


AND   PROVISION.  34  L 

1st,  That,  of  different  kinds  of  luxury,  those  are  the  most  inno- 
cent, which  afford  employment  to  the  greatest  number  of  artists 
and  manufacturers  ;  or  those,  in  other  words,  in  which  the  price  ot 
the  work  bears  the  greatest  proportion  to  that  of  the  raw  material. 
Thus,  luxury  in  dress  or  furniture  is  universally  preferable  to  lux- 
ury in  eating,  because  the  articles  which  constitute  the  one,  are 
more  the  production  of  human  art  and  industry,  than  those  which 
supply  the  other. 

2dly,  That  it  is  the  diffusion  rather  than  the  degree  of  luxury, 
which  is  to  be  dreaded  as  a  national  evil.  The  mischief  of  luxu- 
r}'  consists,  as  we  have  seen,  in  the  obstruction  which  it  forms  to 
marriage.  Now,  it  is  only  a  small  part  of  the  people  that  the 
higher  ranks  in  any  country-  compose  ;  for  which  reason  the  facili- 
ty or  the  difficulty  of  supporting  the  expense  of  their  station,  and 
the  consequent  increase  or  diminution  of  marriages  amongst  them, 
will  influence  the  state  of  population  but  little.  So  long  as  the 
prevalency  of  luxury  is  confined  to  a  few  of  elevated  rank,  much 
of  the  benefit  is  felt,  and  little  of  the  inconveniency.  But  when 
the  imitation  of  the  same  manners  descends,  as  it  always  will  do, 
into  the  mass  of  the  people ;  when  it  advances  the  requisites  of  liv- 
ing beyond  what  it  adds  to  men's  abilities  to  purchase  them  ;  then 
it  is  that  luxury  checks  the  formation  of  families,  in  a  degree  that 
ought  to  alarm  the  public  fears. 

3dly,  That  the  condition  most  favourable  to  population  is  that 
of  a  laborious,  frugal  people,  ministering  to  the  demands  of  an  opu- 
lent, luxurious  nation ;  because  this  situation,  whilst  it  leaves  them 
every  advantage  of  luxury,  exempts  them  from  the  evils  which  na- 
turally accompany  its  admission  into  any  country. 

II.  Next  to  the  mode  of  living,  we  are  to  consider  "  the  quan- 
c<  tity  of  provision  suited  to  that  mode,  which  is  either  raised  in  the 
•'country,  or  imported  into  it:"  for  this  is  the  order  in  which  we 
assigned  the  causes  of  population,  and  undertook  to  treat  of  them. 
Now,  if  we  measure  the  quantity  of  provision  by  the  number  of 
human  bodies  it  will  support  in  due  health  and  vigour,  this  quanti- 
ty, the  extent  and  quality  of  the  soil  from  which  -it  is  raised  being- 
given,  will  depend  greatly  upon  the  kind  For  instance,  a  piece  ot 
ground  capable  of  supplying  animal  food  sufficient  for  the  subsis- 
tence of  ten  persons,  would  sustain,  at  least,  the  double  of  that 
number  with  grain,  roots,  and  milk.  The  first  resource  of  savage 
life  is  in  the  flesh  of  wild  animals ;  hence  the  numbers  amongst  sa- 
vage nations,  compared  with  the  tract  of  country  which  they  occu- 
py, are  universally  small ;  because  this  species  of  provision  is,  of  all 
others,  supplied  in  the  slenderest  proportion.  The  'next  step  was 


342"  OP  POPULATION 

the  invention  of  pasturage,  or  the  rearing  of  flocks  and  herds  of 
tame  animals;  this  alteration  added  to  the  stock  of  provision  much 
But  the  last  and  principal  improvement  was  to  follow;  namely,  til 
iage,  or  the  artificial  production  of  corn,  esculent  plants,  and  roots. 
This  discovery,  whilst  it  changed  the  quality  of  human  food,  aug- 
mented the  quantity  in  a  vast  proportion.  So  far  as  the  state  of 
population  is  governed  and  limited  by  the  quantity  of  provision, 
perhaps  there  is  no  single  cause  that  affects  it  so  powerfully,  as  the 
kind  and  quality  o?  food  which  chance  or  usage  hath  introduced 
into  a  country.  In  England,  notwithstanding  the  produce  of  the 
soil  has  been,  of  late,  considerable  increased,  by  the  enclosure  oi' 
wastes,  and  the  adoption,  in  many  places,  of  a  more  successful  hus- 
bandry, yet  we  do  not  observe  a  corresponding  addition  to  the 
number  of  inhabitants ;  the  reason  of  which  appears  to  me  to  be. 
the  more  general  consumption  of  animal  food  amongst  us.  Many 
ranks  of  people,  whose  ordinary  diet  was  in  the  last  century  pre- 
pared almost  entirely  from  milk,  roots,  and  vegetables,  now  require 
every  day  a  considerable  portion  of  the  flesh  of  animals.  Hence  a 
great  part  of  the  richest  lands  of  the  country  are  converted  to  pas- 
turage. Much  also  of  the  bread-corn,  which  went  directly  to  the 
nourishment  of  human  bodies,  now  only  contributes  to  it  by  fatten- 
ing the  flesh  of  sheep  and  oxen.  The  mass  and  volume  of  provi- 
sions, are  hereby  diminished  ;  aad  what  is  gained  in  the  meliora- 
tion of  the  soil,  is  lost  in  the  quality  of  produce.  This  considera- 
tion teaches  us,  that  tillage,  as  an  object  of  national  care  and  en- 
couragement, is  universally  preferable  to  pasturage,  because  the 
kind  of  provision  which  it  yields  goes  much  further  in  the  sustenta- 
tion  of  human  life.  Tillage  is  also  recommended  by  this  additional 
advantage,  that  it  affords  employment  to  a  much  more  numerous 
peasantry.  Indeed,  pasturage  seems  to  be  the  art  of  a  nation,  ei- 
ther imperfectly  civilized,  as  are  many  of  the  tribes  which  culti- 
vate it  in  the  internal  parts  of  Asia;  or  of  a  nation,  like  Spain,  dc 
rlining  from  its  summit  by  luxury  and  inactivity. 

The  kind  and  quality  of  provision,  together  with  the  extent  and 
oapacit}r  of  the  soil  from  which  it  is  raised,  being  the  same,  the 
quantity  procured  will  principally  depend  upon  two  circumstances 
— the  ability  of  the  occupier,  and  the  epicauragement  which  he  re- 
ceives. The  greatest  misfortune  of  a  country  is  an  indigent  ten- 
antry. Whatever  be  the  native  advantages  of  the  soil,  or  even  tho 
skill  and  industry  of  the  occupier,  the  want  of  a  sufficient  capital 
confines  every  plan,  as  well  as  cripples  and  weakens  every  opera- 
tion of  husbandry.  The  evil  is  felt  where  agriculture  is  account 
•"d  a  servile  or  mean  employment;  where  farms  arc  extremely 


A?TD    PROVISION.  'H3 

subdivided,  aud  badly  furnished  with  habitations ;  where  leases  are 
unknown,  or  are  of  short  or  precarious  duration.  With  respect  to 
the  encouragement  of  husbandry  ;  in  this,  as  in  every  other  employ 
ment,  the  true  reward  of  industry  is  in  the  price  and  sale  of  the 
produce.  The  exclusive  right  to  the  produce  is  the  only  incite- 
ment which  acts  constantly  and  universally  ;  the  only  spring  which 
keeps  human  labour  in  motion.  All  therefore  that  the  law  can  do,  is 
to  secure  this  right  to  the  occupier  of  the- ground ;  that  is,  to  consti- 
tute such  a  system  of  tenure,  that  the  full  and  entire  advantage  oi 
every  improvement  go  to  the  benefit  of  the  improver;  that  every 
man  work  lor  himself,  and  not  for  another ;  and  that  no  one  share 
in  the  profit  who  does  not  assist  in  the  production.  By  the  occupier 
I  here  mean,  not  so  much  the  person  who  performs  the  work,  as 
him  who  procures  the  labour  and  directs  the  management ;  and  I 
consider  the  whole  profit  as  received  by  the  occupier,  when  the 
occupier  is  benefitted  by  the  whole  value  oi  what  is  produced, 
which  is  the  case  with  the  tenant  who  pays  a  fixed  rent  for  the  use 
of  land,  no  less  than  with  the  proprietor  who  holds  it  as  his  own. 
The  one  has  the  same  interest  in  the  produce,  and  in  the  advan- 
tage of  every  improvement,  as  the  other.  Likewise  the  proprietor; 
though  he  grant  out  his  estate  to  farm,  may  be  considered  as  the 
occupier,  in  so  much  as  he  regulates  the  occupation  by  the  choice, 
superintendency,  and  encouragement  of  his  tenants,  by  the  dispo- 
sition of  his  lands,  by  erecting  buildings,  providing  accommoda- 
tions, by  prescribing  conditions,  or  supplying  implements  and  ma- 
terials of  improvement ;  and  is  entitled,  by  the  rule  of  public  ex- 
pediency-above-mentioned, to  receive,  in  the  advance  of  his  rent, 
a  share  of  the  benefit  which  arises  ,'rom  the  increased  produce  of 
his  estate.  The  violation  of  this  fundamental  maxim  of  agrarian 
policy  constitutes  the  chief  objection  to  the  holding  of  lands  by  the 
state,  by  the  king,  by  corporate  bodies,  by  private  persons  in  right 
of  their  offices  or  benefices.  The  inconveniency  to  the  public  ari- 
ses not  so  much  from  the  unalienable  quality  of  lands  thus  holden 
in  perpetuity,  as  from  hence,  that  proprietors  of  this  description 
seldom  contribute  much  either  of  attention  or  expense  to  the  cul- 
tivation of  their  estates,  yet  claim,  by  the  rent,  a  share  in  the  pro- 
fit of  every  improvement  that  is  made  upon  them.  This  complaint 
can  only  be  obviated  by  "  long  leases  at  a  fixed  rent,"  which  con- 
vey a  large  portion  of  the  interest  to  those  who  actually  conduct 
the  cultivation.  The  same  objection  is  applicable  to  the  holding 
of  lands  by  foreign  proprietors,  and  in  some  degree  to  estates  of 
'oo  great  extent  being  placed  in  the  same  hands. 
III.  Beside  the  production  of  provision,  there  remains  to  be  con- 


!J44  Otf    POPULATION 

sidered  the  DISTRIBUTION. — It  is  iu  vain  that  provisions  abound 
in  the  country,  unless  I  be  able  to  obtain  a  share  of  them.  This 
reflection  belongs  to  every  individual.  The  plenty  of  provision 
produced,  the  quantity  of  public  stock,  affords  subsistence  to  indi- 
viduals,  aud  encouragement  to  the  lormation  of  families,  only  iu 
proportion  as  it  is  distributed,  that  is,  in  proportion  as  these  indi- 
viduals are  allowed  to  draw  from  it  a  supply  of  their  own  wants. 
The  distribution,  therefore,  becomes  of  equal  consequence  to  pop- 
ulation with  the  production.  Now,  there  is  but  one  principle  of  dis- 
tribution that  can  ever  become  universal,  namely,  the  principle  of 
"'exchange;"  or,  in  other  words,  that  every  man  have  something 
lo  give  in  return  for  what  he  wants.  Bounty,  however  it  may 
come  in  aid  of  another  principle,  however  it  may  occasionally  qual- 
ify the  rigour,  or  supply  the  imperfection  01  an  established  rule 
of  distribution,  can  never  itself  become  that  rule,  or  principle; 
because  men  will  not  work  to  give  the  produce  of  their  labour 
away.  Moreover,  the  only  equivalents  that  can  be  offered  in  ex- 
change for  provision  are,  power  and  labour.  All  property  is  pow- 
er. What  we  call  property  in  land,  is  the  power  to  use  it,  and  ex- 
clude others  from  the  use.  Money  is  the  representative  of  power 
because  it  is  convertable  into  power  ;  the  value  of  it  consisis  in  its 
faculty  of  procuring  power  over  things  and  persons.  But  power 
which  results  from  civil  conventions  (and  of  this  kind  is  what  we 
call  a  man's  fortune  or  estate,)  is  necessarily  confined  to  a  few, 
and  is  withal  soon  exhausted ;  whereas,  the  capacity  of  labour  is  ev- 
ery man's  natural  possession,  and  composes  a  constant  and  renew- 
ing fund.  The  hire,  therefore,  or  produce  of  personal  industry,  is 
that  which  the  bulk  of  every  community  must  bring  to  market,  in 
exchange  for  the  means  of  subsistence  ;  in  other  words,  employ- 
ment must,  in  every  country,  be  the  medium  of  distribution,  and 
the  source  of  supply  to  individuals.  But  when  we  consider  the 
production  and  distributidn  of  provision,  as  distinct  from,  and  in- 
dependent of  each  other;  when,  supposing  the  same  quantity  to  be 
produced,  we  inquire  in  what  way,  or  according  to  what  rule,  it 
may  be  distributed,  we  are  led  to  a  conception  of  the  subject  not 
ut  all  agreeable  to  truth  and  reality ;  for,  in  truth  aud  reality, 
though  provision  must  be  produced  before  it  be  distributed,  yet  the 
production  depends  in  a  great  measure  upon  the  distribution.  The 
quantity  of  provision  raised  out  of  the  ground,  so  far  as  the  raising 
of  it  requires  human  art  or  labour,  will  evidently  be  regulated  by 
the  demand ;  the  demand,  or,  in  other  words,  the  price  and  sale, 
being  that  which  alone  rewards  the  care,  or  excites  the  diligence 
yf  the  husbandman.  But  the  sale  of  provision  depends  upon  the' 


A>D    PROVISION'. 

not  of  those  who  want,  but  of  those  who  have  something 
to  offer  in  return  for  what  they  want ;  not  of  those  who  would  con- 
sume, but  of  those  who  can  buy  ;  that  is,  upon  the  number  of  those 
who  have  the  fruits  of  some  other  kind  of  industry  to  tender  in  ex- 
change for  what  they  stand  in  need  of  from  the  production  of  tin 
soil. 

We  see,  therefore  the  connexion  between  population  and  em  • 
ployment.  Employment  affects  population  "directly,"  as  it  afford? 
the  only  medium  of  distribution  by  which  individuals  can  obtain 
from  the  common  stock  a  supply  for  the  wants  of  their  families;  it 
affects  population  "indirectly,"  as  it  augments,  the  stock  itself  ol 
provision,  in  the  only  way  by  which  the  production  of  it  can  be  ef- 
fectually encouraged, — by  mrnishing  purchasers.  No  man  can 
purchase  without  an  equivalent;  and  that  equivalent,  by  the  gene- 
rality of  the  people,  must  in  every  country  be  derived  from  em- 
ployment. • 

And  upon  this  basis  is  founded  the  public  benefit  of  trade,  thai 
is  to  say,  its  subserviency  to  population,  in  which  its  only  real  utili- 
ty consists.  Of  that  industry,  and  of  those  arts  and  branches  of 
trade,  which  are  employed  in  the  production,  conveyance,  and  pre- 
paration of  any  principal  species  of  human  food,  as  of  the  business 
of  the  husbandman,  the  butcher,  baker,  brewer,  corn-merchant,  &c. 
we  acknowledge  the  necessity :  likewise  of  those  manufactures 
which  furnish  us  with  warm  clothing,  convenient  habitations,  do- 
mestic utensils,  as  of  the  weaver,  tailor,  smith,  carpenter,  &c.  wo 
perceive  (in  climates,  however,  like  ours,  removed  at  a  distance 
from  the  sun,)  the  conduciveness  to  population,  by  their  rendering 
human  life  more  healthy,  vigorous,  and  comfortable.  But  not  one 
half  of  the  occupations  which  compose  the  trade  of  Europe,  fall 
within  either  of  these  descriptions.  Perhaps  two-thirds  of  the 
manufacturers  of  England  are  employed  upon  the  articles  of  con- 
fessed luxury,  ornament,  or  splendour:  in  the  superfluous  embel- 
lishment of  some  articles  which  are  useful  in  their  kind,  or  upon 
others  which  have  no  conceivable  use  or  value,  but  what  is  found- 
ed in  caprice  or  fashion.  What  can  be  less  necessary,  or  less  con- 
nected with  the  sustentation  of  human  life,  than  the  whole  produce 
of  the  silk,  lace  and  plate  manufactory  ?  yet  what  multitudes  la- 
bour in  the  different  branches  of  these  arts  !  What  can  be  imagi- 
ned more  capricious  than  the  fondness  for  tobacco  and  snuff?  yet 
how  many  various  occupations,  and  how  many  thousands  in  each, 
are  set  at  work  in  administering  to  this  frivolous  gratification ! 
Concerning  trades  of  this  kind  (and  this  kind  comprehends  more 
than  half  of  the  trades  that  are  exercised,)  it  may  fairly  be  asked, 
30 


J40  O?    AGRICULTURE 

•'How,  since  they  add  nothing'  to  the  stock  of  provision,  do  they 
"tend  to  increase  the  number  of  the  people?"  We  are  taught  t<» 
say  of  trade,  "that  it  maintains  multitudes  ;"  but  by  what  means 
does  it  maintain  them,  when  it  produces  nothing  upon  which  the 
support  of  human  life  depends  ? — In  like  manner  with  respect  to 
foreign  commerce  ;  of  that  merchandise  which  brings  the  necessa- 
ries of  life  into  a  country,  which  imports,  for  example,  corn,  or 
cattle,  or  cloth,  or  fuel,  we  allow  the  tendency  to  advance  popula- 
tion, because  it  increases  the  stock  of  provision  bv  which  the  peo- 
ple are  subsisted.  But  this  effect  of  foreign  commerce  is  so  little 
seen  in  our  own  country,  that,  I  believe,  it  may  be  affirmed  of 
Great  Britain,  what  Bishop  Berkley  said  of  a  neighbouring  island, 
that,  if  it  was  encompassed  with  a  wall  of  brass  fifty  cubits  high. 
the  country  might  maintain  the  same  number  of  inhabitants  that 
find  subsistence  in  it  at  present ;  and  that  every  necessary.,  and 
even  every  real  com/ort  and  accommodation  of  human  life,  might 
be  supplied  in  as  great  abundance  as  they  are  now.  Here,  therefore, 
as  before,  we  may  fairly  ask,  by  what  operation  it  is,  that  foreign 
commerce,  which  brings  into  the  country  no  one  article  of  human 
subsistence,  promotes  the  multiplication  of  human  life? 

The  answer  to  this  inquiry  will  be  contained  in  the  discussion  of 
another,  viz. 

Since  the  soil  will  maintain  more  than  it  can  employ,  what  must 
be  done,  supposing  the  country  to  be  full,  with  the  remainder  of  the 
inhabitants  ?  They  who,  by  the  rules  of  partition,  (and  some  such 
must  be  established  in  every  country,)  are  entitled  to  the  land  ;  and 
they  who,  by  their  labour  upon  the  soil,  acquire  a  right  in  its  pro- 
duce, will  not  part  with  their  property  for  nothing ;  or  rather,  they 
will  no  longer  raise  from  the  soil  what  they  can  neither  use  them- 
selves, nor  exchange  for  what  they  want.  Or,  lastly,  if  these  were 
willing  to  distribute  what  they  could  spare  of  the  provision  which  the 
ground  yielded,  to  others  who  have  no  share  or  concern  in  the  pro- 
perly or  cultivation  of  it,  yet  still  t!ie  most  enormous  mischiefs  would 
ensue  from  great  numbers  remaining  unemployed.  The  idleness  of 
one  half  of  the  community  would  overwhelm  the  whole  with  confu- 
sion and  disorder.  One  only  way  presents  itself  of  removing  the 
difficulty  which  this  question  states,  and  which  is  simply  this  ;  that 
they  whose  work  is  not  wanted,  nor  can  be  emploved  in  the  rais- 
ing the  provision  out  of  the  ground,  convert  their  hands  and  inge- 
nuity to  the  fabrication  of  articles  which  may  gratify  and  requite 
those  who  are  so  employed,  or  who,  by  the  division  of  lands  in  the 
country,  are  entitled  to  the  exclusive  possession  of  certain  parts  of 
them.  By  this  contrivance,  all  things  proceed  well.  The  occupi- 


*xn  COMMERCE.  34? 

<er  of  the  ground  raises  from  it  the  utmost  that  he  can  procure,  be- 
cause he  is  repaid  for  what  he  can  spare  by  something  else  which 
he  wants,  or  with  which  he  is  pleased ;  the  artist  and  manufacturer, 
though  he  have  neither  any  property  in  the  soil,  nor  any  concern 
in  its  cultivation,  is  regularly  supplied  with  the  produce,  because 
he  gives,  in  exchange  for  what  he  stands  in  need  of,  something  up- 
on which  the  receiver  places  an  equal  value ;  and  the  community 
is  kept  quiet,  while  both  sides  are  engaged  in  their  respective 
occupations. 

It  appears,  then,  that  the  business  of  one  half  of  mankind  is,  to 
set  the  other  half  at  work ;  that  is,  to  provide  articles  which,  by 
tempting  the  desires,  may  stimulate  the  industry,  and  call  forth 
the  activity  of  those  upon  the  exertion  of  whose  industry,  and 
the  application  of  whose  faculties,  the  production  of  human  provi- 
sion depends.  A  certain  portion  only  of  human  labour  is.  or  can 
be  productive  ;  the  rest  is  instrumental; — both  equally  necessary, 
though  the  one  have  no  other  object  than  to  excite  the  other.  It 
appears  also,  that  it  signifies  nothing,  as  to  the  main  purpose  of 
trade,  how  superfluous  the  articles  which  it  furnishes  are  ;  whether 
the  want  of  them  be  real  or  imaginary,  founded  in  nature  or  in 
opinion,  in  fashion,  habit,  or  emulation ;  it  is  enough  that  they  be 
actually  desired  and  sought  after.  Flourishing  cities  are  raised 
and  supported  by  trading  in  tobacco ;  populous  towns  subsist  by 
the  manufactory  of  ribbands.  A  watch  may  be  a  very  unneces- 
sary appendage  to  the  dress  of  a  peasant ;  yet  if  the  peasant  will 
till  the  ground  in  order  to  obtain  the  watch,  the  true  design  of 
trade  is  answered ;  and  the  watchmaker,  while  he  polishes  the 
case,  or  files  the  wheels  of  his  machine,  is  contributing  to  the  pro- 
duction of  corn  as  effectually,  though  not  so  directly,  as  if  he  hand- 
led the  spade  or  held  the  plough.  The  use  of  tobacco  has  been 
mentioned  already,  as  an  acknowledged  superfluity,  and  as  afford- 
ing a  remarkable  example  of  the  canrice  of  human  appetite;  yet, 
if  the  fisherman  will  ply  his  nets,  or  the  mariner  fetch  rice  from 
foreign  countries,  in  order  to  procure  to  himself  this  indulgence, 
the  market  is  supplied  with  two  important  articles  of  provision,  by 
the  instrumentality  of  a  merchandise,  which  has  no  other  apparent 
use  than  the  gratification  of  a  vitiated  palate. 

But  it  may  come  to  pass,  that  the  husbandman,  landowner,  or 
whoever  he  be  that  is  entitled  to  the  produce  of  the  soil,  will  no 
longer  exchange  it  for  what  the  manufacturer  has  to  offer.  He 
is  already  supplied  to  the  extent  of  his  desires.  For  instance,  he 
wants  no  more  cloth ;  he  will  no  long-rr,  therefore,  give  the  weaver 
«jorn,  in  return  for  the  produce  of  Ins  looms ;  but  he  would  readily 


348  OF    AGKICUI.TIJKT. 

give  it  for  tea,  or  for  wine.  When  the  weaver  finds  this  to  be  ilie 
case,  he  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  send  his  cloth  abroad,  in  exchange 
for  tea  or  for  wine,  which  he  may  barter  for  that  provision,  which 
the  offer  of  his  cloth  will  no  longer  procure.  The  circulation  is 
thus  revived ;  and  the  benefit  of  the  discovery  is,  that,  whereas 
the  number  of  weavers,  who  could  find  subsistence  from  their  em- 
ployment, was  before  limited  by  the  consumption  of  cloth  in  the 
country,  that  number  is  now  augmented  in  proportion  to  the  de- 
mand for  tea  and  for  wine.  This  is  the  principle  of  foreign  com- 
merce. In  the  magnitude  and  complexity  of  the  machine,  the 
principle  of  motion  is  sometimes  lost  or  unobserved ;  but  it  is  al- 
ways simple  and  the  same,  to  whatever  extent  it  may  be  diversi- 
fied and  enlarged  in  its  operation. 

The  effect  of  trade  upon  agriculture,  the  process  of  which  we 
have  been  endeavouring  to  describe,  is  visible  in  the  neighourhood 
of  trading  towns,  and  in  those  districts  which  carry  on  a  communi- 
cation with  the  markets  of  trading  towns.  The  husbandmen  are 
busy  and  skilful,  the  peasantry  laborious,  the  lands  are  managed 
to  the  best  advantage,  and  double  the  quantity  of  corn  or  herbage 
(articles  which  are  ultimately  converted  into  human  provision) 
raised  from  it,  of  what  the  same  soil  yields  in  remoter  and  more 
neglected  parts  of  the  country.  Wherever  a  thriving  manufacto- 
ry finds  means  to  establish  itself,  a  new  vegitation  springs  up  around 
it.  I  believe  it  is  true,  that  agriculture  never  arrives  at  any  con- 
siderable, much  less  at  its  highest  degree  of  perfection,  where  it  is 
not  connected  with  trade ;  that  is,  where  the  demand  for  the  pro- 
duce is  not  increased  by  the  consumption  of  trading  cities. 

Let  it  be  remembered,  then,  that  agriculture  is  the  immediate 
source  of  human  provision  ;  that  trade  conduces  to  the  production 
of  provision  only  as  it  promotes  agriculture ;  that  the  whole  system 
of  commerce,  vast  and  various  as  it  is,  hath  no  other  public  im- 
portance than  its  subserviency  to  this  end. 

We  return  to  the  proposition  we  laid  down,  that  "employment 
•'universally  promotes  population."  From  this  proposition  it  fol- 
lows, that  the  comparative  utility  of  different  branches  of  national 
commerce  is  measured  by  the  number  which  each  branch  employs. 
Upon  which  principle  a  scale  may  easily  be  constructed,  which 
shall  assign  to  the  several  kinds  and  divisions  of  foreign  trade  theiv 
respective  degrees  of  public  importance.  In  this  scale,  the  Jirst 
place  belongs  to  the  exchange  of  wrought  goods  for  raw  materials, 
as,  of  broad  cloths  for  raw  silk;  cutlery  for  wool ;  clocks  or  watches 
for  iron,  flax,  or  furs ;  because  this  traffic  provides  a  market  for  the 
labour  that  has  already  been  expended  at  the  same  time  that  it  sup- 


AKD    COMMERCE.  345 

\>lics   materials   for  new   industry.     Population. always   flourishes 
where  this  species  of  commerce  obtains  to  any  considerable  de- 
gree.    It  is   the  cause  of  employment,  or  the  certain  indication. 
As  it  takes  off  the   manufactures  of  the  country,  it  promotes  em- 
ployment ;  as  it  brings  in  raw  materials,  it  supposes  the  existence 
of  manufactories  in  the  country,  and  a  demand  for  the  article  when 
manufactured. — The  second  place  is  due  to  that  commerce,  which 
barters  one  species  of  wrought  goods  for  another,  as  stuffs  for  cali- 
coes, fustians  for  cambrics,  leather  for  paper,  or  wrought  goods  for 
articles  which  require  no  further  preparation,  as  for  wine,  oil,  tea, 
sugar,  &c.     This  also  assists  employment ;  because  when  the  coun- 
try is  stocked  with  one  kind  of  manufacture,  it  renews  the  demand 
by  converting  it  into  another:  but  it  is  inferior  to  the  former,  as  it 
promotes  this  end  by  one  side  only  of  the  bargain, — by  what  it  car- 
ries out. — The  last,  the  lowest,  and  most  disadvantageous  species 
of  commerce,  is  the  exportation  of  raw  materials  in  return  for 
wrought  goods  :  as  when  wool  is  sent  abroad  to  purchase  velvets  ; 
hides  or  peltry,  to  procure  shoes,  hats,  or  linen  cloth.     This  trade 
is  unfavourable  to  population,  because  it  leaves  no  room  or  demand 
for  employment,  either  in  what  it  takes  out  of  the  country,  or  in 
what  it  brings  into  it.     Its  operation  on  both  sides  is  noxious.     By 
its  exports,  it  diminishes  the  very  subject  upon  which  the  industry 
of  the  inhabitants  ought  to  be  exercised  ;  by  its  imports,  it  lessens 
the  encouragement  of  that  industry,  in  the  same  proportion  that  it 
supplies  the  consumption  of  the  country  with  (Jie  produce  of  foreign 
labour.     Of  different  branches  of  manufacture,  those  are,  in  their 
nature,  the  most  beneficial,  in  which  the  price  of  the  wrought  ar- 
ticle exceeds  in  the  highest  proportion  that  of  the  raw   material; 
for  this  excess  measures  the  quantity  of  employment,  or,  in  other 
words,  the  number  of  manufacturers  which  each  branch  sustains. 
The  produce  of  the  grou  :d  is  never  the  most  advantageous  article 
of  foreign  commerce.     Under  a  perfect  state  of  public  economy, 
the  soil  of  the  country  should  be  applied  solely  to  the  raising  of 
provision  for  the  inhabitants,  and  its  trade  be  supplied  by  their  in- 
dustry.    A  nation  will  never  reach  its  proper  extent  of  population, 
so  long  as  its  principal  commerce  consists  in  the  exportation  of 
corn  or  cattle,  or  even  of  wine,  oil,  tobacco,  madder,  indigo,  tim- 
ber; because  these  last  articles  take  up  that  surface  which  ought 
to  be  covered  with  the  materials  of  human  subsistence. 

It  must  be  here  however  noticed,  that  we  have  all   along  cbnsi- 
dered   the  inhabitants  of  a  country  as  maintained  by  the  nroduce 
of  the  countrv  :  and  that  what  we  have  said  is  applicable  with  strict- 
ness to  this  supposition  alone.     The  reasoning,  nevertheless,  may 
30* 


35  OP  AGR.icur.TURF, 

easily  be  adapted^  to  a  different  case ;  for  when  provision  is  liOl 
produced,  but  imported,  what  has  been  affirmed  concerning  pro« 
vision,  will  be,  in  a  great  •  measure,  true  of  that  article,  whether 
it  be  money,  produce,  or  labour,  which  is  exchanged  for  provision. 
Thus,  when  the  Dutch  raise  madder,  and  exchange  it  for  corn : 
or  when  the  people  of  America  plant  tobacco,  and  send  it  to  Eu- 
rope for  cloth ;  the  cultivation  of  madder  and  tobacco  becomes  as 
necessary  to  the  subsistence  of  the  inhabitants,  and  by  consequence 
will  affect  the  state  of  population  m  these  countries  as  sensibly  as 
the  actual  production  of  food,  or  the  manufactory  of  raiment.  In 
like  manner,  when  the  same  inhabitants  of  Holland  earn  money 
by  the  carriage  of  the  produce  of  one  country  to  another,  and  with 
that  money  purchase  the  provision  from  abroad  which  their  own 
land  is  not  extensive  enough  to  supply,  the  increase  or  decline  oi 
this  trade  will  influence  the  numbers  of  the  people  no  less  than 
similar  changes  would  do  in  the  cultivation  of  the  soil. 

The  few  principles  already  established  will  enable  us  to  describe 
the  effects  upon  population,  which  may  be  expected  from  the  fol- 
lowing important  articles  of  national  conduct  and  economy. 

I.  EMIGRATION. — Emigration  may  be  either  the  overflowing  oi 
a  country,  or  the  desertion.     As  the  increase  of  the  species  is  in- 
definite; and  the  number  of  inhabitants,  which  any  given  tract  or 
surface  can  support,  finite ;  it  is  evident  that  great  numbers  may 
be  constantly  leaving  a  country,  and  yet  the  country  remain  con- 
stantly full.     Or  whatever  be  the  cause  which  invincibly  limits  the 
population  of  a  country,  when  the  number  of  the  people  has  ar- 
rived at  that  limit,  the  progress  of  generation,  beside  continuing- 
the  succession,  will   supply  multitudes  for  foreign  emigration.     In 
these  two  cases,  emigration  neither  indicates  any  political  decay, 
nor  in  truth  diminishes  the  number  of  peon)e :  nor  ought  to  be 
prohibited  or  discouraged.     But  emigrants  may  relinquish   their 
country  from  a  sense  of  insecurity,  oppression,  annoyance,  and  in- 
conveniency.     Neither,  again,  here  is  it  emigration  which  wastes 
the  people,  but  the  evils  that  occasion  it.     It  would  be  in  vain,  if  it 
were  practicable,  to  confine  the  inhabitants  at  home ;  for  the  same 
causes  which  drive  them  out  of  the  country,  would  prevent  their 
multiplication  if  they  remained  in  it.     Lastly,  men  may  be  tempted 
to  change  their  situation  by  the  allurement  of  a  better  climate,  of  a 
more   refined   or  luxurious   manner  of  living ;  by  the  prospect  of 
wealth;  or  sometimes  by  the  mere  nominal  advantage  of  higher 
wages  and  prices.     This  class  of  emigrants,  with  whom  alone  the 
laws  can  interfere  with  effect,  will  never,  I  think,  be  numerous. 
With  the  generality  of  a  people,  the  attachment  of  mankind  to 


A.KD    COMMERCE,  «>J> 

their  homes  and  country,  the  irksomeness  of  seeking  new  habita- 
tions, and  of  living  amongst  strangers,  will  outweigh,  so  long  as  men 
possess  the  necessaries  of  life  in  safety,  or  at  least  so  long  as  they  can 
obtain  a  provision  for  that  mode  of  subsistence  which  the  class  of 
citizens  to  which  they  belong  are  accustomed  to  enjoy,  all  the  in- 
ducements that  the  advantages  of  a  foreign  land  can  offer.  There 
appear,  therefore,  to  be  few  cases  in  which  emigration  can  be  pro- 
hibited with  advantage  to  the  state  5.4!  appears  also,  that  emigra- 
tion is  an  equivocal  symptom,  which  will  probably  accompany  the 
decline  of  the  political  body,  but  which  may  likewise  attend  a  con- 
dition of  perfect  health  and  vigour. 

II.  COLONIZATION. — The  only  view  under  which  our  subject 
will  permit  us  to  consider  colonization,  is  in  its  tendency  to  aug- 
ment the  population  of  the  parent  state.     Suppose  a  fertile,   buf 
empty  island,  to  lie  .within  the  reach  of  a  country  in  which  arts  and 
manufactures  are  already  established  ;  suppose  a  colony  sent  out 
from  such  a  country,  to  take  possession  of  the  island,  and  to  live 
there  under  the   protection  and  authority  of  their  native  govern- 
ment ;  the  new  settlers  will  naturally  convert  their  labour  to  the 
cultivation  of  the  vacant  soil,  and  with  the  produce  of  that  soil  will 
draw  a  supply  of  manufactures  from  their  countrymen  at  home~ 
Whilst  the  inhabitants  continue  few,  the  lands  cheap  and  fresh,  the 
colonists  will  find  it  easier  and  more   profitable  to  raise  corn,  or 
rear  cattle,  and  with  corn  and  cattle  to  purchase  woollen  cloth,  for. 
instance,  or  linen,  than  to  spin  or  weave  these  articles  for  them- 
selves.    The   mother  country,  meanwhile,  derives  from  this  con- 
nexion an  increase  both  of  provision  and  employment.     It  pro- 
motes at  once  the  two  great  requisites  upon  which  the  facility  of 
subsistence,  and  by  consequence  the  state  of  population  depends, 
— production  and  distribution  ;  and  this  in  a  manner  the  most  di- 
rect and  beneficial.     No  situation  can  be  imagined  more  favoura- 
ble to  population,  than  that  of  a  country  which  works  up  goods  for 
others,  whilst  these  others  are  cultivating  new  tracts  of  land  for 
them :  for  as,  in  a  genial  climate,  and  from  a  fresh  soil,  the  labour 
of  one  man  will  raise  provision  enough  for  ten,  it  is  manifest,  that 
where  all  are  employed  in  agriculture,  much  the  greater  part  ol 
the  produce  will  be  spared    from  the  consumption ;  and  that  three 
out  of  four,  at  least,  of  those  who  are  maintained  by  it,  will  reside 
in  the  country  which  receives  the   redundancy.     When  the  new 
country  does  not  remit  provision  to  the  old  one,  the  advantage  is 
less  ;  but  still  the  exportation  of  wrought  goods,  by  whatever  re- 
turn they  are  paid  for,  advances  population  in  that  secondary  way, 
in  wluch  those  trades  promote  it  that  are  not  employed  in  the  pro- 


i52  OF   AGRICULTURE 

Auction  of  provision.  Whatever  prejudice,  therefore,  some  late 
events  have  excited  against  schemes  of  coloniEation,  the  system  it- 
self is  founded  in  apparent  national  utility ;  and  what  is  more,  upon 
principles  favourable  to  the  common  interest  of  human  nature  ; 
for  it  does  not  appear  by  what  other  method  newly  discovered  and 
unfrequented  countries  can  be  peopled,  or  during  the  infancy  of 
their  establishment  be  protected  or  supplied.  The  error  which  we 
of  this  nation  at  present  la*»?ent,  seems  to  have  consisted  not  so 
much  in  the  original  formation  of  colonies,  as  in  the  subsequent 
management ;  in  imposing  restrictions  too  rigorous,  or  in  continu- 
ing them  too  long;  in  not  perceiving  the  point  of  time  when  the 
irresistible  order  and  progress  of  human  affairs  demanded  a  change 
of  laws  and  policy. 

III.  MONEY. — Where  money  abounds,  the  people  are  generally 
numerous :  yet  gold  and  silver  neither  feed  nor  clothe  mankind ; 
nor  are  they  in  all  countries  converted  into  provision,  by  purchas- 
ing the  necessaries  of  life  at  foreign  markets ;  nor  do  thej',  in  any 
country,  compose  those  articles  of  personal  or  domestic  ornament, 
which  certain  orders  of  the  community  have  learnt  to  regard  as  ne- 
cessaries of  life,  and  without  the  means  of  procuring  which  they 
will  not  enter  into  family  establishments ; — at  least,  this  property 
of  the  precious  metals  obtains  in  a  very  small  degree.     The  effect 
of  money  upon  the  number  of  the  people,  though  visible  to  obser- 
vation, is  not  explained  without   some  difficulty-     To  understand 
this  connexion  properly,  we  must  return  to  the   proposition  with 
which  we  concluded  bur  reasoning  upon  the  subject,  "lhat  popula- 
•'  tion  is  chiefly  promoted  by  employment."     Now  of  employment, 
money  is  partly  |the  indication  and  partly  the  cause.     The    only 
way  in  which  money  regularly  and  spontaneously_/?ows  into  a  coun- 
try, is  in  return  for  the  goods  lhat  are  sent  out  of  it,  or  the  work 
that  is  performed  by  it;  and  the   only  way  in  which  money  is  re- 
tained in  a  country  is,  by  the  country  supplying,  in  a  great  mea- 
sure, its  own  consumption   of  manufactures.     Consequently,    the 
quantity  of  money  found  in  a  country,  denotes  the  amount  of  labour 
and  employment ;  but  still  employment,   not   monev,  is  the   cause 
of  population  ;  the  accumulation  of  monev  being  mcrelv  a  collate- 
ral effect  of  the  same  cause,  or  a  circumstance  which  accompanies 
the  existence,  and  measures  the  operation  of  that  cause.     And  this 
is  true  of  money  only  whilst  it  is  acquired  by  the  industry  of  the 
inhabitants.     The  treasures  which  belong  to  a  country  by  the  pos- 
session of  mines,  or  by  the  exaction  of  tribute  from  foreign  depen- 
dencies, afford  no  conclusion  concerning  tlio  state  of  population. 
The  influx  from  these  sources  may  be  immense,  and  yet  the  coun.- 


AND    COMMERCE.  353 

try  remain  poor  and  ill  peopled  ;  of  which  we  see  an  egregious  ex- 
ample in  the  condition  of  Spain,  since  the  acquisition  of  its  South 
American  dominions. 

But,  secondly,  money  may  become  also  a  real  and  operative 
cause  of  population,  by  acting  as  a  stimulus  to  industry,  and  by 
facilitating  the  means  of  subsistence.  The  ease  of  subsistence,  and 
the  encouragement  of  industry  depend  neither  upon  the  price  of 
labour,  nor  upon  the  price  of  provision,  but  upon  the  proportion 
which  the  one  bears  to  the  other.  Now  the  influx  of  money  into 
a  country  naturally  tends  to  advance  this  proportion ;  that  is,  every 
fresh  accession  of  money  raises  the  price  of  labour  before  it  raises, 
the  price  of  provision.  When  money  is  brought  from  abroad,  the 
persons,  be  they  who  they  will,  into  whose  hands  it  first  arrives,  do 
not  buy  up  provisions  with  it,  but  apply  it  to  the  purchase  and  pay- 
ment of  labour.  If  the  state  receives  it,  the  state  dispenses  what  it 
receives,  amongst  soldiers,  sailors,  artificers,  engineers,  shipwrights, 
workmen  ; — if-  private  persons  bring  home  treasures  of  gold  and  sil- 
ver, they  usually  expend  them  in  the  building  of  houses,  the  im- 
provement of  estates,  the  purchase  of  furniture,  dress,  equipage,  in 
articles  of  luxury  or  splendour ; — if.  the  merchant  be  enriched  by 
returns  of  his  foreign  commerce,  he  applies  his  increased  capital  to 
the  enlargement  of  his  business  at  home.  The  money  ere  long 
comes  to  market  for  provision:  But  it  comes  thither  through  the 
hands  of  the  manufacturer,  the  artist,  the  husbandman,  and  labour- 
er. Its  effect,  therefore,  upon  the  price  of  art  and  labour,  will  pre- 
cede its  effects  upon  the  price  of  provision  :  and,  during  the  inter- 
val between  one  effect  and  the  other,  the  means  of  subsistence  will 
be  multiplied  and  facilitated,  as  well  as  industry  be  excited  by  new 
rewards.  When  the  great  plenty  of.  money  in  circulation  has  pro- 
duced an  advance  in  the  price  of  provisions,  corresponding  to  the 
advanced  price  of  labour,  its  effect  ceases.  The  labourer  no  long- 
er gains  any  thing  by  the  increase  of  his  wages.  It  is  not,  there- 
fore, the  quantity  of  specie  collected  into  a  country,  but  the  con- 
tinual increase  of  that  quantity,  from  which  the  advantage  arises 
to  employment  and  population.  It  is  only  the  accession  of  money 
which  produces  the  effect,  and  it  is  only  by  money  constantly  flow- 
ing into  a  country  that  the  effect  can  be  constant.  Now,  what- 
ever consequence  arises  to  the  country  from  the  influx  of  money, 
the  contrary  may  be  expected  to  follow  from  the  diminution  of  its 
quantity ;  and  accordingly  we  find,  that  whatever  cause  drains  off 
the  specie  of  a  country,  faster  than  the  streams  which  feed  it  can 
supply,  not  only  impoverishes  the  country,  but  depopulates  it. 
The  knowledge  and  experience  of  this  effect  has  given  occasion  to 


354  OF    AGIUCULTURK. 

a  phrase  which  occurs  in  almost  every  discourse  upon  commerce 
or  politics.  The  balance  of  trade  with  any  foreign  nation  is  said 
to  be  against  or  in  favour  of  a  country,  simply  as  it  tends  to  cam 
money  out,  or  to  bring  it  in :  that  is,  according  as  the  price  of  thr 
imports  exceeds  or  falls  short  of  the  price  of  the  exports.  So  in- 
variably is  the  increase  or  dimunition  of  the  specie  of  a  country  re_- 
garded  as  a  test  of  the  public  advantage  or  a  detriment,  which 
arises  from  any  branch  of  its  commerce. 

IV.  TAXATION — As  taxes  take  nothing  out  of  a  country;  as 
they  do  not  diminish  the  public  stock,  only  vary  the  distribution  of  it, 
they  are  not  necessarily  prejudicial  to  population.  If  the  state  exact 
money  from  certain  members  of  the  comrnuuity,  she  dispenses  it 
also  amongst  other  members  of  the  same  community.  They  who 
contribute  to  the  revenue,  and  they  who  are  supported  or  benefit- 
ted  by  the  expenses  of  government,  are  to  be  placed  one  against 
the  other;  and  whilst  what  the  subsistence  of  one  part  is  profited 
by  receiving,  compensates  for  what  that  of  the  other  suffers  by 
paying,  the  common  fund  of  the  society  is  not  lessened.  This  is 
true ;  but  it  must  be  observed,  that  although  the  sum  distributed 
by  the  state  be  always  equal  to  the  sum  collected  from  the  people, 
yet  the  gain  and  loss  to  the  means  of  subsistence  may  be  very  une- 
qual ;  and  the  balance  will  remain  on  the  wrong  or  the  right  side 
of  the  account,  according'  as  the  money  passes  by  taxation  from 
the  industrious  to  the  idle,  from  the  many  to  the  few,  from  those 
who  want  to  those  who  abound,  or  in  a  contrary  direction.  For 
instance,  a  tax  upon  coaches,  to  be  laid  out  in  tlie  repair  of  roads, 
would  probably  improve  the  population  of  a  neighbourhood  ;  a  tax 
upon  cottages,  to  be  ultimately  expended  in  the  purchase  and  sup- 
port of  coaches,  would  certainly  diminish  it.  In  like  manner, 
a  tax  upon  wine  or  tea,  distributed  in  bounties  to  fishermen  or 
husbandmen,  would  augment  the  provision  of  a  country ;  a  tax 
upon  fisheries  and  husbandry,  however  indirect  or  concealed,  to  be 
converted,  when  raised,  to  the  procuring  of  wine  or  tea  for  the  idle 
and  opulent,  would  naturally  impair  the  public  stock  The  effect, 
therefore,  of  taxes  upon  the  means  of  subsistence  depends  not  so 
much  upon  the  amount  of  the  sum  levied,  as  upon  the  object  of 
the  tax  and  the  application.  Taxes  likewise  may  be  so  adjusted 
as  to  conduce  to  the  restraint  of  luxury,  and  the  correction  of  vice  : 
to  the  encouragement  of  industry,  trade,  agriculture,  and  marriage. 
Taxes  thus  contrived,  become  rewards  and  penalties;  not  only 
sources  of  revenue,  but  instruments  of  police.  Vices,  indeed, 
themselves  cannot  be  taxed,  without  holding  forth  such  a  condi- 
tional toleration  of  them,  as  to  destroy  men's  perception  of  their 


AND    COMMERCE.  Jj.' 

guilt ;  a  tax  conies  to  be  considered  as  a  commutation;  the  mate- 
rials, however,  and  incentives  of  vice  ma}'.  Although,  for  in- 
ytancc,  drunkenness  would  be,  on  this  account,  an  unfit  object  of 
taxation,  yet  public  houses  and  spirituous  liquors  arc  very  proper- 
ly subject  to  heavy  imposts. 

Nevertheless,  although  it  may  be  true  that  taxes  cannot  be  pro- 
nounced to  be  detrimental  to  population,  by  any  absolute  necessi- 
ty in  their  nature  ;  and  though  under  some  modifications,  and 
when  urged  only  to  a  certain  extent,  they  may  even  operate  in  fa- 
vour of  it;  yet  it  will  be  found,  in  a  great  plurality  of  instances, 
that  their  tendency  is  noxious.  Let  it  be  supposed  that  nine  fami- 
lies inhabit  a  neighbourhood,  each  possessing  barely  the  means  of 
subsistence,  or  of  that  mode  of  subsistence  which  custom  hath  es- 
tablished amongst  them  :  let  a  tenth  family  be  quartered  upon  these, 
to  be  supported  by  a  tax  raised  from  the  nine  ;  or  rather,  let  one  of 
the  nine  have  his  income  augmented  by  a  similar  deduction  from 
the  incomes  of  the  rest ;  in  either  of  these  cases  it  is  evident  that 
the  whole  district  would  be  broken  up  :  lor,  as  the  entire  income  of 
each  is  supposed  to  be  barely  sufficient  for  the  establishment  which 
it  maintains,  a  deduction  of  any  part  destroys  that  establishment. 
Now,  it  is  no  answer  to  this  objection,  it  is.no  apology  for  the  griev- 
ance, to  say,  that  nothing  is  taken  out  of  the  neighbourhood  ;  that 
the  stock  is  not  diminished  :  the  mischief  is  done  by  deranging  the 
distribution.  Nor,  again,  is  the  luxury  of  one  family,  or  even  the 
maintenance  of  an  additional  family,  a  recompense  to  the  country 
for  the  ruin  of  nine  others.  Nor,  lastly,  will  it  alter  the  effect, 
though  it  may  conceal  the  cause,  that  the  contribution,  instead  of 
being  levied  directly  upon  each  day's  wages,  is  mixed  up  in  the 
price  of  some  article  of  constant  use  and  consumption,  as  in  a  tax 
upon  candles,  malt.  leather,  or  fuel.  This  example  illustrates  the 
tendency  of  taxes  to  obstruct  subsistence,  and  the  minutest  de- 
gree of  this  obstruction  will  be  felt  in  the  formation  of  families. 
The -example,  indeed,  forms  an  extreme  case;  the  evil  is  magnifi- 
ed, in  order  to  render  its  operation  distinct  and  visible,  In  real 
life,  families  may  not  be  broken  up,  or  forced  from  their  habitation, 
houses  be  quitted,  or  countries  suddenly  deserted,  in  consequence 
of  any  new  imposition  whatever;  but  marriages  will  become  gra- 
dually less  frequent. 

It  seems  necessary,  however,  to  distinguish  between  the  opera- 
tion of  a  new  tax,  and  the  effect  of  taxes  which  have  been  long  es- 
tablished. In  the  course  of  circulation,  the  money  may  flow  back 
to  the  hands  from  which  it  was  taken.  The  proportion  between 
the  supply  and  the  expense  of  subsistence,  which  had  been  distur- 


350  OF   AGRICULTURE 

bed  by  the  tax,  may  at  length  recover  itself  again.  In  the  instance 
just  now  stated,  the  addition  of  a  tenth  family  to  the  neighbourhood. 
or  the  enlarged  expenses  of  one  of  the  nine,  may  in  some  shape  01 
other,  so  advance  the  profits,  or  increase  the  employment  of  the 
rest,  as  to  make  full  restitution  for  the  share  of  their  property  of 
wkteh  it  deprives  them ;  or,  what  is  more  likely  to  happen  a  reduc- 
tion may  take  place  in  their  mode  of  living,  suited  to  the  abridg- 
ment of  their  incomes.  Yet  still  the  ultimate  and  permanent  ef- 
fect of  taxation,  though  distinguishable  from  the  impression  o'f  a 
new  tax,  is  generally  adverse  to  population.  The  proportion  above 
spoken  of,  can  only  be  restored  by  one  side  or  other  of  the  follow- 
ing alternative :  By  the  people  either  contracting  their  wants,  which 
at  the  same  time  diminishes  consumption  and  employment ;  ortby 
raising  the  price  of  labour,  which  necessarily  adding  to  the  price  of 
the  productions  and  manufactures  of  the  country,  checks  their  sale 
at  foreign  markets.  A  nation  which  is  burthened  with  taxes,  must 
always  be  undersold  by  a  nation  which  is  free  from  them,  unless 
the  difference  be  made  up  by  some  singular  advantage  of  climate, 
soil,  skill,  or  industry.  This  quality  belongs  to  all  taxes  which  af- 
fect the  mass  of  the  community,  even  when  imposed  upon  the  pro- 
perest  objects,  apd  applied  to  the  fairest  purposes.  But  abuses  are 
inseparable  from  the  disposal  of  public  money.  As  government  is 
usually  administered,  the  produce  of  public  taxes  is  expended  upon 
a  train  of  gentry,  in  the  maintaining  of  pomp,  or  in  the  purchase 
of  influence.  The  conversion  of  property  which  taxes  effectuate, 
when  they  are  employed  in  this  manner,  is  attended  with  obvious 
evils.  It  takes  from  the  industrious,  to  give  to  the  idle  ;  it  increa- 
ses the  number  of  the  latter ;  it  tends  to  accumulation  ;  it  sacrifi- 
ces the  conveniency  of  many  to  the  luxury  of  a  few  ;  it  makes  no 
return  to  the  people,  from  whom  the  tax  is  drawn,  that  is  satisfac- 
tory or  intelligible;  it  encourages  no  activity  which  is  useful  or 
productive. 

The  sum  to  be  raised  being  settled,  a  wise  statesman  will  con- 
trive his  taxes  principally  with  a  view  to  their  effect  upon  popula- 
tion ;  that  is,  he  will  so  adjust  them  as  to  give  the  least,  possible 
obstruction  to  those  means  of  subsistence  by  which  the  mass  of 
the  community  are  maintained.  We  are  accustomed  to' an  opin- 
ion, that  a  tax,  to  be  just,  ought  to  be  accurately  proportioned  to 
the  circumstances  of  the  persons  who  pay  it.  But  upon  what,  it 
might  be  asked,  is  this  opinion  founded ;  unless  it  could  be  shown 
that  such  a  proportion  interferes  the  least  with  the  general  conve- 
niency of  subsistence  ?  Whereas  I  should  rather  believe,  that  a 
tax,  constructed  with  a  view  to  that  conveniency,  ought  to  raise 


AND    COMMERCE.  357 

-tpon  the  different  classes  of  the  community,  in  a  much  higher  ra- 
tio than  the  simple  proportion  of  their  incomes.  The  point  to  bt> 
regarded,  is  not  what  men  have,  but  what  they  can  spare ;  and  it 
is  evident  that  a  man  who  possesses  a  thousand  pounds  a  year,  can 
more  easily  .give  a  hundred,  than  a  man  with  a  hundred  pounds  a 
year  can  part  with  ten;  that  is,  those  habits  of  life  which  are  rea 
sonable  and  innocent,  and  upon  the  ability  to  continue  which  the 
formation  of  families  depends,  will  be  much  less  affected  by  the  one 
deduction  than  the  other:  It  is  still  more  evident,  that  a  man  of  a 
hundred  pounds  a  year,  would  hot  be  so  much  distressed  in  his  sub- 
sistence by  a  demand  from  him  of  ten  pounds,  as  a  man  of  ten  pounds 
a  year  would.be  by  the  loss  of  one;  to  which  we  must  add,  that  the 
population  of  every  country  being  replenished  by  the  marriages  of 
the  lowest  ranks  of  society,  their  accommodation  and  relief  become  • 
of  more  importance  to  the  state,'than  the.conveniency  of  any  high- 
er, but  less  numerous  order  of  its  citizens.  But  whatever  be  the  pro- 
portion which  public  expediency  directs,  whether  the  simple,  the 
duplicate,  or  any  higher  or  intermediate  proportion  of  men's  in- 
comes, it  can  never  be  attained  by  any  single  tax ;  as  no  single  ob- 
ject of  taxation  can  be  found,  which  measures  the  ability  of  the  sub- 
ject with  sufficient  generality  and  exactness.  It  is  only  by  system 
and  variety  of  taxes  mutually  balancing  and  equalizing  one  another, 
that  a  due  proportion  can  be  preserved.  For  instance,  if  a  tax  upon 
lands  press  with  greater  hardship  upon  those  who  live  in  the  coun- 
try, it  may  be  counterpoised  by  a  tax  upon  the  rent  of  houses,  which 
will  affect  principally  the  inhabitants  of  large  towns,  Distinctions 
may  also  be  framed  in  some  taxes,  which  shall  allow  abatements  or 
exemptions  to  married  persons ;  to  the  parents  of  a  certain  num- 
ber of  legitimate  children;  to  improvers  of  the  soil;  to  particular 
modes  of  cultivation,  as  to  tillage  in  preference  to  pasturage ;  and 
in  general,  to  that  industry  which  is  immediately  productive,  iu 
preference  to  that  which  is  only  instrumental;  but  above  all, 
which  may  leav"e  the  heaviest  part  of  the  burthen  upon  the  meth- 
ods, whatever  they  be,  of  acquiring  without  industry,  or  even  of 
subsisting  in  idleness. .  . 

V.  EXPORTATION  OF  BREAD-CORN. — Nothing  seems  to  have  a 
more  positive  tendency  to  reduce  the  number  of  the  people,  than 
the  sending  abroad  part  of  the  provision  by  which  they  are  main- 
tained ;  yet  this  has  been  the  policy  of  legislators  very  studious  of 
the  improvement  of  their  country.  In  order  to  reconcile  ourselves 
to  a  practice  which  appears  to  militate  with  the  chief  interest, 
that  is,  with  the  population  of  the  country  that  adopts  it,  we  must 
be  reminded  of  a  maxim  which  belongs  to  the  productions  both  of 
31 


3^8  OF   AGRICULTTJKE 

nature  and  art,  "that  it  is  impossible  to  have  enough  without  a  siP 
"perfiuity."     The  point  of  sufficiency  cannot,  in  any  case,  be  sa 
exactly  hit  upon,  as  to  have  nothing  to  spare,  yet  never  to  want 
This  is  peculiarly  true  of  bread-corn,  of  which  the  annual  increase 
is  extremely  variable.     As  it  is  necessary  that  the  crop  be  ade 
quate  to  the  consumption  in  a  year  of  scarcity,  it. must  of  conse- 
quence, greatly  exceed  it  in  a  year   of  plenty.     A  redundancy 
therefore  will  occasionally  arise  from  the  very  care  that  is  taken  to 
-secure  the  people  against  the  danger  of  want ;  and  it  is  manifest, 
that  the  exportation  of  this  redundancy  subtracts  nothing  from  the 
number  that  can  regularly  be  maintained  by  the  produce  of  the 
soil.     Moreover,  as  the  exportation  of  corn,  under  these  circum- 
stances, is  attended  with  no  direct  injury  to  population,  so  the 
benefits  which  indirectly  arise  to  population  from   foreign  com- 
merce, belong  to  this  in  common   with  other  species  of  trade ; 
together   with  the  peculiar  advantage  of  presenting  a  constant 
incitement  to -the  skill  and  industry  cf  the  husbandman,  by  the  pro- 
mise of  a  certain  sale  and  an  adequate  price,  under  every  con- 
tingency of  season  and  produce.     There  is  another  situation,  in 
which  corn  may  not  only  be  exported,  but  in  which  the  people  can 
thrive  by  no  other  means  ;  that  is  of  a  newly  settled  country  with 
a  fertile  soil.     The  exportation  of  a  large  proportion  of  the  corn 
which  a  country  produces,  proves  it  is  true,  that  the  inhabitants 
have  not  yet  attained  to  the  number  which  the  country  is  capable 
of  maintaining ;  but  it  does  not  prove  but  that  they  maybe  hasten- 
ing to  this  limit  with  the  utmost  practicable  celerity,  which  is  the 
perfection  to  be  sought  for  in  a  young  establishment.     In  all  cases 
except  these  two,  and  in  the  former  of  them  to  any  greater  degree 
than  what  is  necessary  to  take  off-occasional  redundancies,  the  ex- 
portation of  corn  is  either  itself  noxious  to  population,  or  argues  3 
defect  of  population  arising  from  some  other  cause. 

VI.  ABRIDGMENT  OF  LABOUR. — It  has  long  been  made  a  ques- 
tion, whether  those  mechanical  contrivance*  which  abridge  labour  - 
by  performing  the  same  work  by  fewer  hands,  be  detrimental  or 
not,  to  the'population  of  a  country  ?  From  what  has  been  delivered 
in  preceding  parts  of  the  present  chapter,  it  will  be  evident  that 
this  question  is  equivalent  to  another,— whether  such  contrivances 
diminish  or  not  the  quantity  of  employment?  Their  first  and  most 
obvious  effect  undoubtedly  is  this;  because  if  one  man  be  made  to 
do  what  three  men  did  before,  two  are  immediately  discharged  ; 
but  if  by  some  more  general  and  remoter  consequence  they  in- 
crease the  demand  for  work,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  prevent 
the  diminution  of  that  demand,  in  a  greater  proportion  than  they 


AND    COMMERCE.  359 

contract  the  number  of  hands  by  which  it  is  performed,  the  quan- 
tity of  employment,  upon  the  whole,  will  gain  an  addition.  Upon 
which  principle  it  may  be  observed,  firstly,  that  whenever  a  me- 
•chanical  invention  succeeds  in  one  place,  it  is  necessary  that  it  be 
imitated  in  every  other  where  the  same  manufacture  is  carried 
on ;  for  it  is  manifest  that  he  who  has  the  benefit  of  a  conciser  ope- 
ration, will  soon  outvie  and  undersell  a  competitor  who  continues 
to  use  a  more  circuitous  labour.  It  is  also  true,  in  the  second 
place,  that  whoever  firs}  discover  or  adopt  a  mechanical  improve- 
ment, will,  for  some  time,  draw  to  themselves  an  increase  of  em- 
ployment ;  and  that  this  preference  may  continue  even  after  the 
improvement  has  bec.ome  general :  for,  in  every  kind  of  trade,  it 
is  not  only  a  great  but  permanent. advantage,  to  have  once  pre-oc- 
•cupied  the  public  reputation.  Thirdly,  after  every  superiority 
which  might  be  derived  from  the  possession  of  a  secret  has  ceased, 
it  may  be  well  questioned  whether  even  then,  any  loss  can  accrue 
to  employment.  The  same  money  will  be  spared  to  the  same  arti- 
cle still.  Wherefore,  in  proportion  as  the  article  can  be  afforded 
at  a  lower  price,  by  reason  of  ao  easier  or  shorter  process  in  the 
manufacture,  it  will  either  grow  into  more  general  use,  or  an  im- 
provement will  take  place  in  the  quality  and  fabric,  which  will  de- 
mand a  proportionable  addition  of  hands.  The  number  of  persons 
employed  in  the  manufactory  of  stockings  has  not,  I  apprehend, 
decreased  since  the  invention  of  stocking-mills.  The  amount  of 
what  is  expended  upon  the  article,  after  subtracting  from  it  the 
price  of  the  raw  material,  and  consequently  what  is  paid  for  work 
in  this  branch  of  our  manufactories,  is  not  less  than  it  was  before. 
Goods  of  a  finer  texture  are  worn  in  the  place  of  coarser.  This  is 
the  change  which  the  invention  has  produced,  afad.  which  compen- 
sates to  the  manufactory  for  every  other  inconveniency.  Add  to 
which,  that  in  the  above,  and  in  almost  ever  instance,  an  im- 
provement which  conduces  to  the  recommendation  of  a  manufac- 
tory, either  by  the  cheapness  or  the  quality  of  the  goods,  draws  up 
after  it  many  dependent  employments,  in  which  no  abbreviation 
has  taken  place. 


From  the  reasoning  that  has  been  pursued,  and  the  various  con- 
siderations suggested  in  this  chapter,  a  judgment  may,  in  some 
sort,  be  formed,  how  far  regulations  of  law  are  in  their  nature  ca- 
pable of  contributing  to  the  support  and  advancement  of  popula- 
tion. 1  say  how  fa? ;  for,  as  in  many  subjects, -so  especially  in 


JGO  OF   AGRICULTURE 

those  which  relate  to  commerce,  to  plenty,  to  riches,  and  to  the 
uumber  of  the  people,  more  is  wont  to  be  expected  from  law? 
lhan  laws  can  do.  Laws  can  only  imperfectly  restrain  that  disso- 
luteness of  manners,  which,  by  diminishing  the  frequency  of  mar- 
riages, impairs  the  very  source  of  population.  Laws  cannot  regu- 
late the  wants  of  mankind,  their  modes  of  living,  or  their  desire  of 
those  superfluities  which  fashion,  more  irresistible  than  laws,  has 
once  introduced  into  general  usage;' or,  in  other  words,  has  erect- 
ed into  necessaries  of  life.  .  Laws  cannot  induce  men  to  enter  into 
*narriages,  when  the  expenses  of  a  family  must  deprive  them  of  that 
system  of  accommodation  to  which  they  have  habituated  their  ex- 
pectations. Laws,  by  their  protection,  by  assuring  to  the  labourer 
the  fruit  and  profit  of  his  labour,  may  help  to  make  a  people  indus- 
trious ;  but,  without  industry,  the  laws  cannot  provide  either  sub- 
sistence or  employment ;  laws  cannot  make  corn  grow  without  toil 
and  care,  or  trade  nourish  withoutart  and  diligence.  In  spite  of  all 
laws,  the  expert,  laborious,  honest  workman  will  be  employed^  in 
preference  to  the  lazy,  the  unskilful,  the  fraudulent,  and  evasive ; 
and  this  is  not  more  true  of  two  inhabitants  of  the  same  village, 
than  it  is  of  the  people  of  two  different  countries,  which  communi- 
oate  either  with  each  -  other,  or  with  the  rest  of  the  world.  The 
natural  basis  of  trade  is  rivalship  of  quality  and  price ;  or,  which 
is  the  same  thing-,  of  skill  and  industry.  Every  attempt  to  force 
trade  by  operation  of  law,  that  is,  by  compelling  persons  to  buy 
goods  at  one  market,  which  they  can  obtain  cheaper  and  better 
irom  another,  is  sure  to  be  either  eluded  by  the  quick-sightedness- 
and  incessant  activity  of  private  interest,  or  to  be  frustrated  by  re- 
« aliation.  One  half  of  the  commercial  laws  of  many  states  arc- 
calculated  merely  to  counteract  the  restrictions  which  have  been 
imposed  by  other  states.  Perhaps  the  only  way  in  which  the  inter- 
position of  law  is  salutafy  in  trade,  is  in  the  prevention  of  frauds. 
Next  to  the  indispensable  requisites  of  fnternal  peace  and  secu- 
rity, the  chief  advantage  which  can  be  derived  to  population  from 
the  interference  of  law,  appears'to  me  to  consist  in  the  encourage- 
ment of  agriculture.  This,  at  least  is  the  direct  way  of  increasing 
the  number  of  the  people  ;  every  other  mode  being  effectual  only 
by  its  influence  upon  this.  Now  the  principal  expedient  by  which 
such  a  purpose  can  be  promoted,  is,  to  adjust  the.  laws  of  proper- 
Jy,  as  nearly  as  possible,  to  the  two  following  rules :  first,  "  To  give 
'l  to  the  occupier  all  the  power  over  the  soil  which  is  necessary  for 
';  its  perfect  cultivation ;" — secondly,  "  To  assign  the  whole  profit 
cof  every  improvement  to  the  persons  by  whose  activity  it  is  car- 
;  ricd  on."  What  we  call  property  in  land,  as  hath  been  observed 


AND    COMMERCE.  36 1 

above,  is  power  over  it.  Now  it  is  indifferent  to  the  public  in 
whose  hands  this  power  resides,  if  it  be  rightly  used ;  it  matters  not 
to  whom  the  land  belongs,  if  it  be  well  cultivated.  When  we  la- 
ment that  great"  estates  are  often  united  in  the  same  hand,  or  com- 
plain that  one  man  possesses  what  would  be  sufficient  for  a  thou- 
sand, we  suffer  ourselves  to  be  misled  by  words.  The  owner  of 
ten  thousand  pounds  a  year,  consumes  little  more  of  the  produce  of 
the  soil  than  the  owner  of  ten  pounds  a  year.  If  the  cultivation 
be  equal,  the  estate,  in  the  hands  of  one  great  lord,  affords  subsis- 
tence and  employment  to  the  same  number  of  persons  as  it  would 
do  if  it  were  divided  amongst  a  hundred  proprietors.  In  like  man- 
ner we  ought  to  judge  of  the  effect  upon  the  public  interest,  which 
may  arise  from  lands  being  holden  by  the  king,  or  by  the  subject ; 
by  private  persons,  or  by  corporations ;  by  laymen,  or  ecclesiastics ; 
in  fee,  or  for  life ;  by  virtue  of  office,  or  in  right  of  inheritance. 
I  do  not  mean  that  these  varieties  make  no  difference,  but  I  mean 
that  all  the  difference  they  do  make  respects  the  cultivation  of  the 
lands  which  are  so  holden. 

There  exists  in  this  country  conditions  of  tenure  which  condemn 
the  land  itself  to  perpetual  sterility.  Of  this  kind  is  the  right  of 
common,  which  precludes  each  proprietor  from  the  improvement, 
or  even  the  convenient  occupation  of  his  estate,  without  (what  sel- 
dom can  be  obtained)  the  consent  of  many  others.  This  tenure  is 
also  usually  embarrassed  by  the  interference  of  manorial  claims, 
under  which  it  often  happens-  that  the  surface  belongs  to  one  own- 
er, and  the  soil  to  another  ;  so  that  neither  owner  can  stir  a  clod 
without  the  concurrence  of  his  partner  in  the  property.  In  many 
manors,  the  tenant  is  restrained  from  granting  leases  beyond  a  short 
term  of  years  ;'  which  renders  every  plan  of  solid  and  permanent 
improvement  impracticable.  In  these  cases,  the  owner  wants,' 
what  the  first  rule  of  rational  policy  requires,  "  sufficient  power 
"  over  the  soil  for  its  perfect  cultivation."  This  power  ought  to  be 
extended  to  him  by  some  easy  and  general  law  of  enfranchise- 
ment, partition,  and  enclosure ;  which,  though  compulsory  upon  the 
lord,  or  the  rest  of  the  tenants,  whilst  it  has  in  view  the  melioration 
of  the  soil,  and  tenders  an  equitable  compensation  for  every  right 
that  it  takes  away,  is  neither  more  arbitrary,  nor  more  dangerous 
to  the  stability  of  property,  than  that  which  is  done  in  the  construc- 
tion of  roads,  bridges,  embankments,  navigable  canals,  and  indeed 
in  almost  every  public  work,  in  which  private  owners  of  land  arc 
obliged  to  accept  that  price  for  their  property  which  an  indifferent 
jury  may  award.  It  may  here,  however,  be  proper  to  observe,  that 
although  the  enclosure  of  wastes  and  pastures  be  generally  benefit 
31* 


•o2  or  WAR,  AND  oy 

»jial  to  population,  yet  the  enclosure  of  lands  in  tillage,  in  order  to 
convert  them  into  pastures,  is  as  generally  hurtful. 

But,  secondly,  agriculture  is  discouraged  by  every  constitution 
of  landed  property  which  lets  in  those,  who  have  no  concern  in  the 
improvement,  to  a  participation  of  the  profit.  This  objection  is  ap- 
plicable to.  all  such  customs  of  manors  as  subject  the  proprietor, 
upon  the  death  of  the  lord  or  tenant,  or  the  alienation  of  the  estate, 
to  a  fine  apportioned  to  the  improved  value  of  the  land.  But  of  all 
institutions  which  are  in  this  way  adverse  to  cultivation  and  im- 
provement, none  is  so  noxious  as-  that  of  tithes.  A  claimant  here 
enters  into  the  produce,"  who  contributed  no  assistance  whatever  t'» 
the  production.  When  years,  perhaps,  of  care  and  toil  have  ma- 
tured an  improvement ;  when  the  husbandman  sees  new  crops  ri- 
pening to  his  skill  and  industry;  the  moment  he  is  ready  to  put  his 
sickle  to  the  grain,  he  finds  himself  compelled  to  divide  his  harves: 
with  a  stranger.  Tithes  are  a  tax  not  only  upon  industry,  but  up- 
on that  industry  which  feeds  mankind,  upon  that  species  of  exer- 
tion which  it  is  the  aim  of  all  wise  laws  to  cherish  and  promote ; 
and  to  uphold  and  excite  which,  composes,  as  we  have  seen,  the 
main  benefit  that  the  community  receives  from  the  whole  system  of 
trade,  and  the  success  of  commerce.  And,  together  with  the  more 
general  inconveniency  that  attends  the  exaction  of  tithes,  there  is 
this  additional  evil,  in  the  mode  at  least  according  to  which  they  are 
collected  at  present,  that  they  operate  as  a  bounty  upon  pasturage. 
The  burthen  of  the  tax  falls  with  its  chief,  if  not  with  its  whole 
weight  upon  tillage  ;  that  is  to  say,  upon  that  precise  mode  of  cul- 
tivation which,  as  hath  been  shown  above,  it  is  the  business  of  the 
state  to  relieve  and  remunerate  in  preference  to  every  other.  No 
measure  of  such  extensive  concern  appears  to  me  so  practicable, 
jaor  any  single  alteration  so  beneficial,  as  the  conversion  of  tithes 
into  corn  rents.  This  commutation,  I  am  convinced,  might  be  so 
adjusted,  as  to  secure  to  the  tithe-holder  a  complete  and  perpetual 
equivalent  for  his  interest,  and  to  leave  to  industry  its  full  opera- 
tion and  entire  reward. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

OP  WAR,  AND  OF  MILITARY  ESTABLISHMENTS. 

BECAUSE  the  Christian  scriptures  describe  wars  as  what  they 

are, — as  crimes  or  judgments,  some  have  been  led  to  believe  that 

».t  is  unlawful  for  a  Christian  to  bear  arms.     But  it  should  be  re- 


MILITARY   ESTABLISHMENTS'.  36j 

membcred,  that  it  may  be  necessary  for  individuals  to  unite  their 
force,  and  for  this  end  to  resign  themselves  to  the  direction  of  a 
common  will ;  and  yet  it  may  be  true  that  that  will  is  often  actua- 
ted by  criminal  motives,  and  often  determined  to  destructive  pur- 
poses.    Hence,  although  the  origin  of  wars  be  ascribed"  in  Scrip- 
ture,  to  the  operation  of  lawless  and  malignant  passions  ;*  and 
though  war  itself  be  enumerated  among  the  sorest  calamities  with 
which  a  land  can  be  visited,  the  profession  of  a  soldier  is  no  where 
forbidden  or  condemned.    When  the  soldiers  demanded  of  John  the 
Baptist,  And  what  shall  we  do  ?  he  said  unto  them,  "  Do  violenc'c 
"to  no  man,  neither  accuse  any  falsely,  and  be  content  with  your 
•'  wages."!     In  which  answer  we  do  not  find,  that  in  order  to  pre- 
pare themselves  for  the  reception  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  it  was 
required  of  soldiers  to  relinquish  their  profession,  but  only  that  they 
should  beware  of  the  vices  of  which  that  profession,  it  may  be  pre 
sumed,  was  justly  accused.-     The  precept,  "  Be  content  with  your 
-'wages,"  supposed  them  to  continue  in  their  situation.     It  was  of 
a  Roman  centurion  that  Christ  pronounced  that  memorable  eulogy. 
"  I  have  not  found  so  great  faith,  no,  -not  in  Israel."}:     The  fiVst 
Gentile  convert^  who  was  received  into  the  Christian  church,  and 
to  whom  the  Gospel  was  imparted  by  the  immediate  and  especial 
direction  of  Heaven,  held  the  same  station  ;  and  in  the  history  of. 
this  transaction,  we  discover  not  the  smallest  intimation  that  Cor- 
nelius, upon  becoming  a  Christian,  quitted  the  service  of  the  Ro- 
man legion ;  that  his  profession  was  objected  to,  or  his  continuance 
in  it  considered  as  in  any  wise  inconsistent  with  his  new  character 
In  applying  the  principles  of  morality  to  the  affairs  of  nations 
the  difficulty  which  meets  us  arises  from  hence,  "  that  the  particu- 
11  lar  consequence  sometimes  appears  to  exceed  the  value  of  the  gc 
<•'•  neral  rule."     In  this  circumstance  is  founded  the  only  distinction 
that  exists  between  the  case  of  independent  states,  and  of  inde 
pendent  individuals.    In  the  transactions  of  private  persons,  no  ad- 
vantage that  results  from  the  breach  of  a  general  law  of  justice, 
can  Compensate  to  the  public  for  the  violation  of  the  law  ;  in  the 
concerns  of  empire,  this  may  sometimes  be  doubted.     Thus,  thai 
the  faith  of  promises  ought  to  be  maintained,  as  far  as  is  lawful, 
and  as  far  as  was"  intended  by  the  parties,  whatever  inconveniency 
either  of  them  may  suffer  by  his  fidelity,  in  the  intercourse  of  pri- 
vate life,  is  seldom  disputed  ;  because  it  is  evident  to  almost  every 
man  who  reflects  upon  the  subject,  that  the  common  happines^ 
trains  more  by  the  preservation  of  the  rule,  than  it  could  do  by  the 

•  Jnmcs,  iv.  ].        f  Luke,  iii.  M.        J  Luke,  vii.  9.        $  Acts.  s.  5- 


364  OF   WAR,  AND   Ot 

removal  of  the  inconveniency.     But  when  the  adherence  to  a  pub- 
lic treaty  would  enslave  a  whole  people ;  would  block  up  seas,  ri 
vers,  or  harbours ;  depopulate  cities  :  condemn  fertile  regions  to 
eternal  desolation  ;  cut  off  a  country  from  its  sources  of  provision, 
or  deprive  it  of  those  commercial  advantages  to  which  its  climate, 
produce,  or  situation  naturally  entitle  it ;  the  magnitude  of  the  par- 
ticular evil  induces  us  to  call  in  question  the  obligation  of  the  ge- 
neral rule.    Moral  Philosophy  furnishes  no  precise  solution  to  these 
doubts.     She  cannot  pronounce  that  any  rule  of  morality  is  so  ri- 
gid as  to  bend  to  no  exceptions  :  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  can  she 
comprise  these  exceptions  within  any  previous  description.     She 
confesses  that  the  obligation  of  every  law  depends  upon  its  ultimate 
utility ;  that  this  utility  having  a  finite  and  determinate  value,  si- 
tuations may  be  feigned,  and  consequently  may  possibly  arise,  in 
which  the  general  tendency  is  outwieghed  by  the  enormity  of  the 
particular  mischief:  but  she  recalls,  at  the  same  time,  to  the  con- 
sideration of  the  inquirer,  the  almost  inestimable  importance,  as  of 
other  general  rules  of  relative   justice,  so  especially  of   national 
and  personal  fidelity  ;  the  unseen,  if  not  unbounded  extent  of  the 
mischief  which  must  follow  from  the  want  of  it ;  the  danger  of  leav- 
ing it  to  the  sufferer  to  decide  upon  the  comparison  of  particular 
and  general  consequences ;  and  the  still  greater  danger  of  such  de- 
cisions being  drawn  into  future  precedents.-    If  treaties,  for  in- 
stance, be  no  longer  binding  than  whilst  they  are  convenient,  or 
untill  the  inconveniency  ascend  to  a  certain  point,  which  point 
must  be.  fixed  by  the  judgment,  or  rather  by  the  feelings  of  the 
complaining  party ;  or  if  such  an  opinion,  after  being  authorized 
by  a  few  examples,  come  at  length  to  prevail ;  one  and  almost  the 
only  method  of  averting  or  closing  the  calamities  of  war,  of  either 
preventing  or  putting  a  stop  to  the  destruction  of  mankind,  is  lost 
to  the  world  forever.     We  do  not  say  that  no  evil  can  exceed  this, 
nor  any  possible  advantage  compensate  it ;  but  we  say,  that  a  loss 
which  affects  aZ/,  will  scarcely  be  made  up  to  the  common  slock  ol 
human  happiness  by  any  benefit  that  can  be  procured  to  a  single 
nation,  which,  however  respectable  when  compared  with  any  other 
single  nation,   bears  an  inconsiderable  proportion  to  tiie  whole. 
These,  however,  are  the  principles  upon  which  the  calculation  is 
to  be  formed.     It  is  enough,  in.  this  place,  to  remark  the  cause 
which  produces  the  hesitation  that  we  sometimes  feel,  in  applying 
rules  of  personal  probity  to  the  conduct  of  nations. 

As  between  individuals  it  is  found  impossible  to  ascertain  every 
duty  by  an  immediate  reference  to  public  utility,  not  only  because 


MILITARY  ESTABLISHMENTS.  36c/ 

?uch  a  reference  is  oftentimes  too  remote  or  obscure  for  the  direc- 
tion of  private  consciences,  but  because  a  multitude  of  cases  arise, 
in  which  it  is  indifferent  to  the  general  interest  by  what  rule  men 
act,  though  it  be  absolutely  necessary  that  they  act  by  some  con- 
stant and  known  rule  or  other ;  and  as  for  these  reasons  certain  po- 
sitive constitutions  are  wont  to  be  established  in  every  society, 
which,  when  established,  become  as-  obligatory  as  the  original 
principles  of  natural  justice  themselves  ;  so,  likewise,  it  is  between 
independent  communities.  Together  with  those  maxims  of  uni- 
versal equity  which  are  common  to  states  and  individuals,  and  by 
which  the  rights  and  conduct  oT  the  one,  as  well  as  of  the  other, 
ought  to  be  adjusted,  when  they  fall  within  the  scope  and  applica- 
tion of  such  maxims ;  there  exists  also  amougst  sovereigns  a  system 
of  artificial  jurisprudence,  under  the  name  of  the  law  of  nations. 
In  this  code  are  found  the  rules  which  determine  the  right  to  va- 
cant or  newly  discovered  countries  ;  those  which  relate  to  the  pro- 
tection of  fugitives,  the  privileges  of  ambassadors,  the  condition  and 
duties  of  neutrality,  the  immunities  of  neutral  ships,  ports,  and' 
coasts,  the  distance  from  shore  to  which  these  immunities  extend, 
the  distinction  between  free  and  contraband  goods,  and  a  variety 
of  subjects  of  the  same  kind.  Concerning  which  examples,  and 
indeed  the  principal  part  of  what  is  called  the  jus  gentium,  it  may 
be  observed  that  the  rules  derive  their  moral  force  (by"  which  I. 
mean  the  regard  that  ought  to  be  paid  to  them  by  the  consciences 
of  sovereigns,)  not  from  their  internal  reasonableness  or  justice,  for 
many  of  them  are  perfectly  arbitrary ;  nor  yet  from  the  authority  by 
which  they  were  established,  for  the  greater  part  have  grown  in- 
sensibly into  usage,  without  any  public  compact,  formal  acknow- 
ledgment, or  even  known  original ;  but  simply  from  the  fact  of  their 
being  established,  and  the  general  duty  of  conforming  to  established 
rules  upon  questions,  and  between  parties,  where  nothing  but  posi- 
tive regulations  can  prevent  disputes,  and  where  disputes  are  fol- 
lowed by  such  destructive  consequences.  The  first  of  the  instances 
which  we  have  just  now  enumerated,  may  be  selected  for  the  il- 
lustration of  that  remark.  The  nations  of  Europe  consider  the  sove- 
reignty of  newly  discovered  countries  as  belonging  to  the  prince 
or  state  whose  subject  makes  the  discovery ;  and  in  pursuance  of 
this  rule,  it  is  usual  for  a  navigator,  who  falls  upon  an  unknown 
shore,  to  take  possession  of  it,  in  the  name  of  his  sovereign  at  home, 
by  erecting  his  standard,  or  displaying  his  flag  upon  a  .desert  coast. 
Now,  nothing  can  be  more  fanciful,  or  less  substantiated  by  any 
considerations  of  reason  or  justice,  than  the  right  which  such  dis- 
covery, or  the  transient  occupation  and  idle  ceremony  that  accom- 


300  OF   WAR,   AND   OF 

pany  it,  confer  upon  the  country  of  the  discoverer.  Nor  can  any 
stipulation  be  produced,  by  which  the  rest  of  the  world  have  bound 
themselves  to  submit  to  this  pretension.  Yet  when  we  reflect  thai 
the  claims  to  newly  discovered  countries  can  hardly  be  settled,  be- 
tween the  different  nations  that  frequent  them,  without  some  posi- 
tive rule  or  other  ;  that  such  claims,,  if  left  unsettled,  would  prove 
sources  of  ruinous  and  fatal  contentions ;  that  the  rule  already  pro- 
posed, however  arbitrary,  possesses  one  principal  quality  of  a  rule, 
—determination  and  certainty  ;  above  all,  that  it  is  acquiesced  in. 
and  that  no  one  has  power  to  substitute  another,  however  he  might, 
contrive  a  better,  in  its  place  r  when  we  reflect  upon  these  proper- 
tics  of  the  rule,  or  rather  upon  these  consequences  of  rejecting-  its 
authority,  we  are  led  to  ascribe  to  it  the  virtue  and  obligation  of  a 
precept  of  natural  justice,  because  we  perceive  in  it  that  which  is  the 
foundation  of  justice  itself, — public  importance  and  utility.  And  a 
prince  who  should  dispute  this  rule,  for  the  want  of  regularity  in 
its  formation,  or"  of  intelligible  justice  in  its  principle,  and  by  such 
disputes  should  disturb  the  tranquillity  of  nations,  arid  at  the  same 
time  lay  the  foundation  of  future  disturbances,  would  be  little  less 
criminal  than  he  who  breaks  the  public  peace  by  a  violation  of  en- 
gagements to  which  he  had  himself  consented,  or  by  an  attack  up- 
on those  national  rights  which  are  founded  immediately  in  the  law 
of  nature,  arid  in  the  first  perceptions  of  equity  The  same  thing- 
may  be  repeated  of  the  rules  which  the'law  of  nations  pi-escribes 
in  the  other  instances  that  were  mentioned,  namely,  that  the  ob- 
scurity of  their  origtn,  or.  the  arbitrariness  of  their  principle,  sub 
tracts  nothing  from  the  respect  that  is  due  to  them,  when  once  es- 
tablished. 

War  may  be  considered  with  a  view  to  its  causes  and  to  its  con- 
duct. 

The  justifying  causes  of  war  are,  deliberate  invasions  of  right, 
and  the' necessity  of  maintaining  such  a  balance  of  power  amongsl 
neighbouring  nations,  as  that  no  single  state,  or  confederacy  oi 
states,  be  strong  enough  to  overwhelm  the  rest.  The  objects  of 
just  war  are,  precaution,  defence  or  reparation.  In  a  larger  sense. 
every  just  war  is  a  defensive  war,  inasmuch  as  every  just  war  sup- 
poses-an  injury  perpetrated,  attempted,  or  feared. 

The  insufficient  causes,  or  imjuatifiable  motives  of  war,  are  the 
family  alliances,  the  personal  friendships,  or  the  personal  quarrels 
of  princes ;  the  internal  disputes  which  are  carried  on  in  other  na- 
tions ;  the  justice  of  other  wars,  the  extension  of  territory,  or  of 
trade;  the  misfortunes  or  accidental  weakness  of  a  neighbouring 
or  rival  nation. 


MILITARY  ESTABLISHMENTS.  367 

There  arc  two  lessons  of  rational  and  sober  policy,  which,  if  it 
were  possible  to  inculcate  into  the  councils  of  princes,  would  ex- 
clude many  of  the  motives  of  war,  and  allay  that  restless  ambition 
which  is  constantly  stirring  up  one  part  of  mankind  against  anoth- 
er. The  first  of  these  lessons  admonishes  princes  to  "  place  their 
•'  glory  and  their  emulation,  not  in  extent  of  territory,  but  in  rais- 
;'  ing  the  greatest  quantity  of  happiness  out  of  a  given  .territory." 
The  enlargement  of  territory  by  conquest  is  not  only  not  a  just  ob- 
ject of  war,  but,  in  the  greater  part  of  the  instances  in  which  it  is 
attempted,  not  even  desirable.  It  is  certainly  not  desirable  where 
it  adds  nothing  to  the  numbers,  the  enjoyments,  or  the  security  ot 
the  conquerors.  What  commonly  is  gained  to  a  nation,  by  the  an- 
nexing of  new  dependencies,  or  the  subjugation  of  other  countries 
to  its  dominion,  but  a  wider  frontier  to  defend ;  more  interfering, 
claims  to  vindicate  ;•  more  quarrels,  more  enemies,  more  rebellions 
to  encounter  ;  a  greater  force  to  keep  up  by  sea  and  land  ;  more 
services  to  provide  for,  and  more  establishments  to  pay  ?  And,  in 
order  to  draw  from  these  acquisitions  something  that  may  make  up 
for  the  charge  of  keeping  them,  a  revenue  is  to  be  extorted,  or  a 
monopoly  to  be  enforced  and  watched,  at  an  expense  which  costs 
half  their  produce.  Thus  the  provinces  are  oppressed,  ifl  order  to 
pay  for  being  ill  governed ;  and  the  original  state  is  exhausted  in 
maintaining  a  feeble  authority  over  discontented  subjects.  No  as- 
signable portion  of  country  is  benefited  by  the  change  ;  and  if  the 
sovereign  appear  to  himself  to  be  enriched  or  strengthened,  when 
every  part  of  "his  dominion  is  made  poorer  and  weaker  than  it  was, 
it  is  probable  that  he  is  deceived  by  appearances.  Or  were  it  true 
that  the  grandeur  of  the  prince  is  magnified  by  those  exploits  ;  the 
glory  which  is  purchased,  and  the  ambition  which,  is  gratified,  by 
the  distress  of  one  country,  without  adding  to  the  happiness  of  an- 
other, which  at  the  same  time  enslaves  the  new  and  impoverishes 
the  ancient  part  of  the  empire,  by  whatever  names  it  may  be  known 
or  flattered,  is  an  object  of  universal  execration  ;  and  not  more  so 
to  the  vanquished,  than  it  is  oftentimes  to  the  very  people  whose 
armies  or  whose  treasures  have  achieved  the  victory. 

There  are,  indeed,  two  cases  in  which  the  extensions  of  territory 
may  be  of  real  advantage,  and  to  both  parties.  The  first  is,  where 
an  empire  thereby  reaches  to  the  natural  boundaries  which. divided 
it  from  the  rest  of  the  world.  Thus  we  account  the  British  Chan- 
nel the  natural  boundary  which  separates  the  nations  of  England 
and  France  ;  and  if  France  possessed  any  countries  on  this,  or  Eng- 
land any  cities  or  provinces  on  that  side  of  the  sea,  the  recovery  ot 
such  towns  and  districts  to  what  may  be  called  their  natural  sove- 


368  OF   WAR,   AND    OF 

reign,  though  it  might  not  be  a  just  reason  for  commencing  \raf< 
would  be  a   proper  use  to  make  of  victory..   The  other  case  is, 
where  neighbouring  states,  being  severally  too  small  and  weak  to 
defend  themselves  against  the  dangers  that  surround  them,   can 
only  be  safe  by  a  strict  and  constant  junction  of  their  strength ; 
here  conquest  will  effect  the  purposes  of  confederation  and  alliance; 
and  the  union   which  it  produces  is  often  more  close  and  perma- 
nent than  that  which  results  from  voluntary  association.     Thus  if 
the  heptarchy  had  continued  in  England,  the  different  kingdoms  of 
it  might  have  separately  fallen  a  prey  to  foreign  invasion  ;  and  al- 
though the  interest  and  danger  of  one  part  of  the  island  was  in 
truth  common  to  every  other  part,  it  might  have  been  difficult  to 
have  circulated  the  persuasion  amongst  independent  nations,  or  to 
have  united  them  in  any  regular  or  steady  .opposition  to  their  con- 
tinental.enemies,  had  not  the  valour  and  fortune  of  an  enterprising 
prince  incorporated  the  whole  into  a  single  monarchy.      Here  the 
conquered  gain  as  much  by  the  revolution  as  the  conquerors.     In 
like  manner  and  for  the  same  reason,  when,  the  two  royal  families 
of  Spain  were  met  together  in  one  race  of  princes,  and  the  several 
provinces  of  France  had  devolved  into  the  possession  of  a  single 
sovereign,  it  became .  unsafe  for  the  inhabitants  of  Great  Britain 
any  longer  to  remain  under  separate  governments.     The  union 
of  England   and    Scotland,   which   transformed   two   quarrelsome 
neighbours  into  one  powerful  empire^  and  .which  was  first  brought 
about  by  the 'course  of  succession,,  and  afterwards  completed  by 
amicable  convention,  would  have  been  a  fortunate  Conclusion  of 
hostilities,  had  it  been  affected ^by  the  operations  of  war.     These 
two  cases  being  admitted,  namely,  the  obtaining  of  natural  boun- 
daries, and  barriers,   and  jthg  including  under  the  same  govern- 
ment those  who  have  a  common  danger  and  a  common  enemy  tt 
guard  against,  I-  know  not  Whether  a  third  can  be  thought  of,  in 
which  the  extension  of  empire  by  conquest  is  useful  even  to  the 
conquerors. 

The  second  rule  of  prudence  which  ought  to  be  recommended 
to  those  who  conduct  the  affairs  of  nations,  is,  "  never  to  pursue 
« national  honour  as  distinct  from  national  interest."  This  rule 
acknowledges,  that  it  is  often  necessary  to  assert  the  honour  of  a 
nation  for  the  sake  of  it's  interest.  The  spirit  and  courage  of  a  peo- 
ple are  supported  by  flattering  their  pride.  Concessions  which  be- 
tray too  much.of  fear  or  weakness,  though  they  relate  to  points' of 
mere  ceremony,  invite  demands  and  attacks  of  more  serious  im- 
portance. Our  rule  allows  all  this ;  and  directs  only,  that  when 
points  of  honour  become  subjects  of  contention  between  sovereigns, 


MILITARY  ESTABLISHMENTS.  369 

jr  are  likely  to  be  made  the  occasions  of  war,  they  be  estimated 
with  a  reference  to  utility,  and  not  by  themselves.  "  The  dignity 
of  his  crown,  the  honour  of  his  flag,  the  glory  of  his  arms,"  in  the 
mouth  of  a  prince,  are  stately  and  imposing  terms ;  but  the  ideas 
they  inspire  are  insatiable.  It  may  be  always  glorious  to  conquer 
whatever  be  the  justice  of  the  war,  or  the  price  of  the  victory.  The 
dignity  of  a  sovereign  may  not  permit  him  to  recede  from  claims  ol 
homage  and  respect,  at  whatever  expense  of  national  peace  and 
happiness  they  are  to  be  maintained,  however  unjust  they  may  have 
been  in  their  original,  or  in  their  continuance  however  useless  to 
the  possessor,  or  mortifying  and  vexatious  to  other  states.  The 
pursuit  of  honour,  when  let  loose  from  the  admonitions  of  prudence 
becomes  in  kings  a  wild  and  romantic  passion  :  eager  to  engage, 
and  gathering  fury  in  its  progress,  it  is  checked  by  no  difficulties, 
repelled  by  no  dangers ;  it  forgets  or  despises  those  considerations 
of  safety,  ease,  wealth,  and  plenty,  which,  in  the  eye  of  true  pub- 
lic wisdom,  compose  the  objects  to  which  the  renown  of  arms,  the 
fame  of  victory,  are  only  instrumental  and  subordinate.  The  pur- 
suit of  interest,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  sober  principle  ;  computes 
costs  and  consequences  ;  is  cautious  of  entering  into  war ;  stops  in 
time :  when  regulated  by  those  universal  maxims  of  relative  jus- 
tice, which  belong  to  the  affairs  of  communities  as  well  as  of  pri- 
vate persons,  it  is  the  right  principle  for  nations  to  proceed  by : 
even  when  it  trespasses  upon  these  regulations,  it  is  much  les<- 
dangerous,  because  much  more  temperate  thaii  the  other. 

II.  The  conduct  of  war. — If  the  cause  and  end  of  war  be  justi- 
fiable, all  the  means  that  appear  necessary  to  the  end  are  justifia- 
ble also.  This  is  the  principle  which  defends  those  extremities  to 
which  the  violence  of  war  usually  proceeds  :  for  since  war  is  aeon- 
test  by  force  between  parties  who  acknowledge  no  common  supe- 
rior, and  since  it  includes  not  in  its  idea  the  supposition  of  any 
convention  which  should  place  limits  to  the  operation  of  force,  it 
has  naturally  no  boundary  but  that  in  which  force  terminates,  the 
— destruction  of  the  life  against  which  the  force  is  directed.  Let 
it  be  observed,  however,  that  the  licence  of  war  authorizes  no  acts 
of  hostility  but  what  are  necessary  or  conducive  to  the  end  and  ob- 
ject of  the  war.  Gratuitous  barbarities  borrow  no  excuse  from 
this  plea:  of  which  kind  is  every  cruelty  and  every  insult  that 
serves  only  to  exasperate  the  sufferings  or  to  incense  the  hatred  of 
an  enemy,  without  weakening  his  strength,  or  in  any  manner  tend- 
ing to  procure  his  submission;  such  as  the  slaughter  of  captives, 
the  subjecting  them  to  indignities  or  torture,  the  violation  of  wo- 
men, the  profanation  of  temples,  the  demolition  of  public  buildings. 


J70  OF    WAR,    AND    OF 

libraries,'' statutes,  and  in  general  the  destruction  or  defacing  of 
^orks  that  conduce  nothing  to  annoyance  or  defence.    These  eno* 
nities  are  prohibited  not  only  by  the  practice  of  civilized  nations, 
but  by  the  law  of  nature  itself;  as  having  no  proper  tendency  tc 
accelerate  the  termination,  or  accomplish  the  object  ol 
and  as  containing  that  which  in  peace  and  war  is  equally  « 
able,— ultimate  and  gratuitous  mischief. 

There  are  other  restrictions  imposed  upon  the  conduct . 
not  by  the  of  law  nature  primarily,  but  by  the  lawsofwar  first,  am 
by  the  law  of  nature  as  seconding  and  ratifying  the  laws  of  war 
The  laws  of  war  are  part  of  the  law  of  nations  ;  and  founded    a! 
to  their  authority  upon  the  same  principle  with  the  rest  of  that  c 
namely,  upon  the  fact  of  their  being  established,  no  matter  whe 
or  by  whom  ;  upon  the  expectation  of  their  being  mutually  obser- 
ved  in  consequence  of  that  establishment ;  and  upon  the  general 
utility  which  results  from  such  observance.     The  binding  force 
these  rules  is  the  greater,  because  the  regard  that  is  paid  to  them 
must  be  universal,  or  none.     The  breach  of  the  rule  can  only  b 
punished  by  the  subversion  of  the  rule  itself:  on  which  account  the 
whole  mischief  that  ensues  from  the  loss  of  those  salutary  restric- 
tions which  such  rules  prescribe,  is  justly  chargeable  upon  the  i 
aggressor.     To  this  consideration  may  be  referred  the  duty  o    re- 
fraining in  war  from  poison  and  from  assassination.     If  the  law 
nature  limply  be  consulted,  it  may  be  difficult  to  distinguish  between 
these  and  other  methods  of  destruction,  which  are  practised  without 
scruple  by  nations  at  war.     If  it  be  lawful  to  kill  an  enemy  at  all, 
it'seems  lawful  to  do  so  by  one  mode  of  death  as  well  as  by  another  : 
by  a  dose  of  poison,  as  by  the  point  of  a  sword  ;  by  the  hand  of  an 
assassin,  as  by  the  attack  of  an  army :  for  if  it  be  said  that  one  spe- 
cies of  assault  leaves  to  ah  enemy  the  power  of  defending  himself 
against  it,  and  that  the  other  does  not;  it  may  be  answered,  that 
vve  possess  at  least  the  same  right  to  cut  off  an  enemy's  defence, 
that  we  have   to  seek  his  destruction.     In  this  manner  might  the 
question  be  debated,  if  there  existed  no  rule  or  law  of  war  upon 
the  subject.    But  when  we  observe  that  such  practices  are  at  pre- 
sent excluded  by  the  usage  and  opinions  of  civilized  nations  :  that 
the  first  recourse  to  them  would  be  followed  by  instant  retaliation  ; 
that  the  mutual  license  which  such  attempts  must  introduce,  would 
fill  both  sides  with  the  misery  of  continual  dread  and   suspicion, 
without  adding  to  the  strength  or  success  of  either;  that  when  th 
example  came  to  be  more  generally  imitated,  which  it  soon  woi 
be,  after  the  sentiment  that  condemns  it  had  been  once  broken  ir 
upon,  it  would  greatly  aggravate  the  horrors  and  calamities  of  war. 


MILITABV   ESTABLISHMENTS.  371 

>  et  procure  no  superiority  to  any  of  the  nations  engaged  in  it :  when 
we  view  these  effects  we  join  in  the  public  reprobation  of  such  fa- 
tal expedients,  as  of  the  admission  amongst  mankind  of  new  and 
enormous  evils  without  necessity  or  advantage.  The  law  of  nature, 
we  see  at  length,  forbids  these  innovations,  as  so  many  trangres- 
sions  of  a  beneficial  general  rule  actually  subsisting. 

The  license  of  war  then  acknowledges  two  limitations :  it  au- 
thorizes no  hostilities  which  have  not  an  apparent  tendency  to  ef- 
fectuate the  object  of  the  war ;  it  respects  those  positive  laws  which 
(he  custom  of  nations  hath  sanctified,  and  which,  whilst  they  arc 
mutually  conformed  to,  mitigate  the  calamities  of  war,  without 
weakening  its  operations,  or  diminishing  the  power  or  safety  of 
belligerent  states. 

Long  and  various  experience  seems  to  have  convinced  the  nations 
of  Europe,  that  nothing  but  a  standing  army  can  oppose  a  standing 
urmy,  where  the  numbers  on  each  side  bear  any  moderate  propor- 
tion to  one  another.  The  first  standing  army  that  appeared  in  Eu- 
rope after  the  fall  of  the  Roman  legion,  was  that  which  was  erected 
in  France  by  Charles  VII.  about  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  cen-  ^ 
tury :  and  that  institution  hath  since  become  general,  can  only  be, 
attributed  to  the  superiority  and  success  which  are  every  where 
observed  to  attend  it.  The  truth  is,  the  closeness,  regularity,,  and 
quickness  of  their  movements ;  the  unreserved,  instantaneous,  and 
almost  mechanical  obedience  to  order* ;  the  sense  of  personal  ho- 
nour, and  the  familiarity  with  danger,  which  belong  to  a  disci- 
plined, veteran,  and  embodied  soldiery,  give  such  firmness  and  in- 
trepidity to  their  approach,  such  weight  and  execution  to  their  at- 
tack, as  are  not  to  be  withstood  by  loose  ranks  of  occasional  and 
newly  levied  troops,  who  are  liable  by  their  inexperience  to  disor- 
der and  confusion,  and  in  whom  fear  is  constantly  augmented  by 
novelty  and  surprise.  It  is  possible  that  a  militia,  with  a  great  ex- 
cess of  numbers,  and  a  ready  supply  of  recruits,  may  sustain  a  de- 
fensive or  a  flying  war  against  regular  troops  ;  it  is  also  true,  that 
any  service  which  keeps  soldiers  for  a  while  together,  and  inures 
them  by  little  and  little  to  the  habits  of  war  and  the  dangers  of  ac- 
tion, transforms  them  in  effect  into  a  standing  arm}*.  But  upon 
this  plan  it  may  be  necessary  for  almost  a  whole  nation  to  go  out  to 
war  to  repel  an  invader;  beside  that,  a  people  so  unprepared  must 
always  have  the  seat,  and  with  it  the  miseries  of  war,  at  home, 
being  utterly  incapable  of  carrying  their  operations  into  a  foreign 
country. 

From  the  acknowledged  superiority  of  standing  armies,  it  fol- 
lows not  only  that  it  is  unsafe  for  a  nation  to  disband  its  regular 


37:2  OP   WAR,   AND   OF 

troops,  whilst  neighbouring  kingdoms  retain  theirs,  but  also  thai 
regular  troops  provide  for  the  public  service  at  the  least  possible 
expense.  I  suppose  a  certain  quantity  of  military  strength  to  be 
necessary,  and  I  say,  that  a  standing  army  costs  the  community  less 
than  any  other  establishments  which  presents  to  an  enemy  the  same 
force.  The  constant  drudgery  of  low  employments  is  not  only  in- 
compatible with  any  great  degree  of  perfection  or  expertness  in 
the  profession  of  a  soldier,  but  the  profession  of  a  soldier  almost  al- 
ways unfits  men  for  the  business  of  regular  occupations.  Of  three 
inhabitants  of  a  village,  it  is  better  that  one  should  addict  himself 
entirely  to  arms,  and  the  other  two  stay  constantly  at  home  to  cul- 
tivate the  ground,  than  that  all  the  three  should  mix  the  avocations 
of  a  camp  with  the  business  of  husbandry.  By  the  former  ar- 
rangement, the  country  gains  one  complete  soldier,  and  two  indus- 
trious husbandmen  :  from  the  latter,  it  receives  three  raw  militia- 
men, who  are  at  the  same  time  three  idle  and  profligate  peasants. 
It  should  be  considered  also,  that  the  emergencies  of  war  wait  not 
for  seasons.  Where  there  is  no  standing  army  ready  for  imme- 
diate service,  it  may  be  necessary  to  call  the  reaper  from  the  fields 
»in  harvest,  or  the  ploughman  in  seed-time ;  and  the  pi'ovision  of  a 
whole  year  may  perish  by  the  interruption  of  one  month's  labour. 
A  standing  army,  therefore,  is  not  only  a  more  effectual,  but  a 
cheaper  method  of  providing  for  the  public  safety  than  any  other, 
because  it  adds  move  than  any  other  to  the  common  strength,  and 
takes  less  from  that  which  composes  the  wealth  of  the  nation, — its 
stock  of  productive  industry. 

There  is  yet  another  distinction  between  standing  armies  and 
militias,  which  deserves  a  more  attentive  consideration  than  any 
that  has  been  mentioned.  When  the  state  relies  for  its  defence 
upon  ajinilitia,  it  isjnecessary  that  arms  be  put  into  the  hands  of  the 
people  at  large.  The  militia  itself  must  be  numerous,  in  propor- 
tion to  the  want  or  inferiority  of  its  discipline,  and  the  imbecilities 
or  defects  of  its  constitution.  Moreover,  as  such  a  militia  must 
be  supplied  by  rotation,  allotment,  or  some  mode  of  succession, 
whereby  they  who  have  served  a  certain  time  are  replaced  by  fresh 
draughts  from  the  country,  a  much  greater  number  will  be  instruc- 
ted in  the  use  of  arms,  and  will  have  been  occasionally  embodied 
together,  than  are  actually  employed,  or  than  are  supposed  to  be 
wanted  at  the  same  time.  Now,  what  effects  upon  the  civil  con- 
dition of  the  country  may  be  looked  for  from  this  general  diffusion 
of  the  military  character,  becomes  an  inquiry  of  great  importance 
and  delicacy.  To  me  it  appears  doubtful  whether  any  government 
<-an  be  long  secure  where  the  people  are  acquainted  with  the  use 


MILITARY  ESTABMSHMKNTS.  37:5 

of  arms,  and  accustomed  to  resort  to  them.  Every  faction  will 
find  itself  at  the  head  of  an  army;  every  disgust  will  excite  com- 
motion, and  every  commotion  become  a  civil  war.  Ndthing,  per- 
haps, can  govern  a  nation  of  armed  citizens,  but  that  which  govern* 
an  army — despotism;  I  do  not  mean,  that  a  regular  government 
would  become  despotic  by  training  up  its  subjects  to  the  knowl- 
edge and  exercise  of  arms,  but  that  it  would  ere  long  be  forced  to 
g-ive  way  to  despotism  in  some  other  shape ;  and  that  the  country 
would  be  liable  to  what  is  even  worse  than  a  settled  and  constitu- 
tional despotism, — to  perpetual  rebellions,  and  to  perpetual  revolu- 
tions ;  to  short  and  violent  usurpations  ;  to  the  successive  tyranny  of 
governors,  rendered  cruel  and  jealous  by  the  danger  and  instability 
of  their  situation. 

The  same  purposes  of  strength  and  efficacy  which  make  a  stand- 
ing army  necessary  at  all,  make  it  necessary,  in  mixed  govern- 
ments, that  this  army  be  submitted  to  the  management  and  direc- 
tion of  the  prince;  for,  however  well  a  popular 'council -may  be 
qualified  for  the  offices  of  legislation,  it  is  altogether  unfit  for  the 
conduct  of  war ;  in  which,  success  usually  depends  upon  vigour 
and  enterprise ;  upon  secrecy,  despatch,  and  unanimit)7 ;  upon  a 
quick  perception  of  opportunities,  and  the  pow^r  of  seizing  every 
opportunity  immediately.  It  is  likewise  necessary  that  the  obe- 
"  dience  of  an  army  be  as  prompt  and. active  as  possible;  for  which 
reason  it  ought  to  be  made  an  obedience  of  will  and  emulation. 
Upon  this  consideration  is  founded  the  expediency  of  leaving  to  the 
prince  not  only  the  government  and  destination  of  the  army,  but 
the  appointment  and  promotion  of  its  officers :  because  a  design  is 
then  alone  likely  to  be  executed  with  zeal  and  .fidelity,"  when  the 
person  who  issues  the  order,  chooses  the  instruments,  and  rewards 
the  service.  To  which  we  may  subjoin,  that  in  governments  like 
ours,  if  the  direction  and  officering  of  the  army  were  placed  in  the 
Lands  of  the  democratic  part  of  the  constitution,  this  power,  added 
to  what  they  already  possess,  would  so  overbalance  all  that  would 
be  left  of  regal  prerogative,  that  little  would  remain  of  monarchy 
in  the  constitution,  but  the  name  and  expense ;  nor  would  they 
probably  remain  long. 

Whilst  we  describe,  however,  the  advantages. of  standing  armies, 
we  must  not 'conceal  the,  danger.  These  properties  of  their  con- 
stitution,— the  soldiery  being  separated  in  a  great  degree  from  the 
rest  of  the  community,  their  being  closely  linked  amongst  them- 
selves by  habits  of  society  and  of  subordination,  and  the  depen- 
dency of  the  whole  chain  upon  the  will  and  favour  of  the  prince, 
— however  essential  they  may  be  to  the  ymrposes  for  which  armies 
32 


574  o*1  WAR,  ice. 

are  kept  up,  give  them  an  aspect  in  no  Visa  favourable  to  public, 
liberty.  The  danger,  however,  is  diminished  by  maintaining  upon 
all  occasions,  as  much  alliance  of  interest,  and  as  much  -intercourse 
of  sentiment,  between  the  military  part  of  the  nation  and  the  other 
orders  of  the  people,  as  are  consistent  with  the  union  and  discipline 
of  an  army.  For  which  purpose,  the  officers  of  the  army,  upon 
whose  disposition  towards  the  commonwealth  a  great  deal  may  de- 
pend, should  be  taken  from  the  principle  families  of  the  country, 
and  at  the  same  time  also,  be  encouraged  to  establish  in  it  families 
of  their  own,  as  well  as  be  admitted  to  seats  in  the  senate,  to  he- 
reditary distinctions,  and  to  all  the  civil  honours  and  privileges  that 
are  compatible  with  their  profession :  which  circumstance  of  con- 
nexion and  situation,  will  gfive  them  such  a  share  in  the  general 
rights  of  the  people,  and  so  engage  their  inclinations  on  the  side  of 
public  liberty,  as  to  afford  a  reasonable  security  that  they  cannc  i 
be  brought,  by  any  promises  of  personal  aggrandizement,  to  assist 
in  the  execution  of  measures  which  might  enslave  their  posterity. 
Oieir  kindred,  and  their  country. 


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